Unforgiven
by Lady The Warrior
Summary: "Little did I know that day this stranger showing up at the Art Cafe and Creep playing on the Jukebox at the same time wasn't only a sick coincidence, either." Ellie's not looking for any drastic change in her life. But when a stranger shows up at her favorite cafe one day, everything takes a huge twist in her boring story she calls her life. (Pre-Joker, Pre-Dark Knight)
1. Chapter 1

**I**

"It's going to be different and you're going to have the best summer ever, honey."

Mom always spoke in absolutes like that and when she did, it sounded like a proclamation, like it would come true because she said so. The thing is, not always Karma was on her side.

She was only partially right though. The summer I graduated from high school with a scholar ship for Gotham Medical School, everything began to change, just like a subtle twist in a long ass story—I called _my life_. It was definitely different though not in a good way or even bad for that matter. It was just… _bizarre_.

Every time I think about it or try to remember exactly what happened to me that summer, it always comes to me in a haze, then my head starts to hurt so I'd eventually stop thinking about it. It seems as if that summer nothing about the ordinary _'Art Café'_ and the same people I interacted with in there was usual. It looked like one of those dreams when you are in a very familiar place and everything is in its place but you're not hundred percent sure only because something, _someone_ has caused the whole place to feel different.

'Art Café' was the only place in the whole city that I felt I had a connection with. I was free to sit on a wooden stool in a dim-light corner there for 6 hours straight in a day only to read books, write something or even draw without any distraction. Of course the only time I was only allowed to go there was in the summer but to be honest that place was my only motivation throughout the entire school year to work hard and to get good grades, trying to keep my dad happy and assuring him that I still haven't given up on my ultimate _goal_ in life—which was to be a physician just like him.

Therefore I had to keep my mouth shut and do whatever I was told. But it was worth it when I thought about my little paradise down the Almond street by the bridge, where I could regain control over my own mind, where I could be _me._

Different people came and went, mostly hippies and antisocial weirdos like me but it was comfortable nonetheless and I even had managed to make some trustworthy friends over the years going in there.

Well to be precise only one actually. _Harry._ But you get what I mean.

It was early in the summer— I don't really remember if it was June or July though, all I know is that even though it was only 8 in the evening, still it was hellishly hot out there and I had to order lemonade every ten minutes to keep myself cool and hydrated. I was sitting in a booth right next to the tall windows that exposed a beautiful view of the glowing bridge with arches going up into the dusky sky as the dark river flowed beneath it.

There weren't many people in the café, only a few guys leaning on the bar, talking and smoking while Johnny Cash was playing in the back ground. Harry was sitting opposite of me, burying his dark head in his laptop as per usual when I suddenly stood up and placed one of my sketches right on his laptop's screen. He stopped typing right away and after a moment popped his head with a raised brow, his dark skin getting much darker in the shadows. A look of curiousness spread all over his face.

"Well," I smiled at him proudly, crossing my arms over my chest and leaning back against my seat. "What do you think?"

He held up the ragged-edged piece of paper, leaning forward intently and titling his head as he stared at the picture in the middle of the paper. The way he narrowed his eyes, puffed his cheeks and pressed his lips almost comically, I already knew what he was going to say. And that made me frown. Then his gaze flickered to me again and then to the paper, to me and the paper as he finally blew loudly and offered me a crooked smile.

"It's uh… hmm…" He tilted his head, pretending to be deep in thought before widening his eyes, "It's um… a circular pot."

I shook my head disapprovingly and he pouted his lips like a child he was, "That's the only thing you see?"

"And this weird ass tree?" He grinned playfully and I found the corner of my mouth twitching, despite my morose state of mind. Harry wasn't stupid, he just loved to joke about everything and he didn't fail to make me laugh most of the time either but I really needed to know if I had progressed in sketching or not so I pulled the paper out of his grip and pointed at the picture teasingly.

"It's not a tree Harry, can't you really see?" I sighed frustrated, " It's a man, these are his hands and strands of his hair pulled up which makes it to look like branches."

His mouth quirked and he raised both eyebrows in surprise, " Oh. " He said slyly, "But why's he sitting on a pot anyway?" He rested his chin in his hand, laughing. "And what is this cloudy thing over his head?"

I averted my eyes back to picture, " Thoughts mostly, " staring at the picture I said, " And his surroundings, obviously." I said sulkily this time, rolling my eyes at him.

Harry started laughing then, cocking his head slightly as he winked and simultaneously tapped me on my left shoulder. "C'mon girl, I'm kidding." To say that I wasn't hurt was an understatement. But thinking about it now I never have found his attitude towards things to be mean. He was just being his funny self; it was me brooding over nothing as always. "But seriously can't you draw something simpler for my simple mind?" he drew back his hand, still smiling.

I couldn't stop frowning. I admit I've never been a real artist but for someone who never took any art classes period, I was pretty okay in my own opinion. Besides I always had a thing for surrealism artist, René Magritte. Sure I wasn't going to become anything close to him but I could at least try a little follow his style. People like Magritte, they weren't ordinary humans; they had this natural eye for their surroundings. They saw things, others were blind to.

I didn't wait for Harry to once again start with his supposed to be funny comments that evening, I felt sorta offended and so I was livid. Folding the paper, I threw it in my back pack carelessly and started for the exit. Harry must have been shocked, because just right then he threw himself on the table, almost immediately and grabbed me by my wrist before I could go.

"Hey Ellie where're you going? I was joki—" I could sense this mixture of playfulness and sincerity in his voice.

"Whatever." I only shrugged, pulling back my hand but he stood and blocked my way anyway. He was only a few inches taller than me, which doesn't say much since I'm about 5' 4'' on a good day. "At least let me walk you home."

"I can walk home just fine on my own." I retorted, trying to push him out of the way again. I somehow knew I was just being a bitch at the moment but what do you know, I've been always famous for my sensitivity among teachers and classmates. People never really dared to share their honest opinion with me in fear of me over-reacting like this, which only resulted in most of them to be passive aggressive to me or just back away, simply stop being around me. But Harry definitely wasn't one of those people.

"Well I need some fresh air too." He said quickly, grabbing his laptop, flipped it close and put it in his bag, almost running after me to the door as he held the door open and smiled sweetly at me, "Ladies first". I didn't glance at him when the door opened and the humid warm summer air slapped me in the face as soon. I felt like gagging but sucked in some oxygen instead and coughed it back out.

Harry eyed me worriedly and grabbed my right shoulder. "You're alright?" he asked which I only responded by nodding, sometimes it just made me sick how he cared about me so much, specially when I became nothing more than mean to him. But we all wear masks sometimes, so I'd just tried and played nice, only because he deserved it. Our walk started in silence with slow strides back to the heart of the city, away from fogginess of the bridge.

I always loved walking along the river. It was less polluted there, quiet, plain beautiful and more refreshing. It kinda reminded me of country side; when we used to go to grandma's. But as she passed away when I was only ten we stopped going there and dad sold the farmhouse. He promised me to take me to the river sometimes and buy me ice cream. This was one of the rarest things he'd do for me and it always made him happy. Though as I grew up, he'd become busier and Gotham became scarier. Or maybe it was from the beginning and I didn't understand but the more I learned the more I was restricted by my parents.

I was never allowed to go to the river by myself. Only because it was close to the bridge and the bridge was a connection between main city streets and the Narrows, where most crimes took place.

Of course I never told them about where Art Café was exactly located still though somewhere at the back of my head I always knew, I should avoid there. Dad always said it's only a matter of time before the chaos invading the Narrows infect our part of the city as well. It was unnerving to think about but there was probably nothing we could do.

Harry never was a person who would look for trouble. Some rules he didn't really like but he respected them anyway. So even though that night I wasn't alone we didn't take the path along the river. We directly went into the busy streets where it wasn't as dead.

Soon the darkness set in as we entered the busy street, we watched the line of cars crossing a little faster, huge lamps lit the whole area. The line for people on foot or on bicycles dwindle down slowly and then stopped. A few border patrol people left their stations and drove away. I continued our silent conversation, even Harry was defeated or at least looked like it. The only sound echoed around us was the squealing of tires and people yelling and cars honking and it all made me dizzier. I felt like vomiting and didn't want anything more than getting home and the comfort of my bed.

By the time we got home my feet were so sore I didn't bother to stand on them anymore, I simply walked to the porch and sat on the stairs. Harry stopped a few feet away, hands tugged in his pocket and head's down. I let out a sigh and looked tiredly at home, I didn't know why I felt so down but my anger sure had faded away.I smiled and forced myself to my feet again. "Thanks for walking with me."

He half-smiled and slowly raised his hand to scratch the back of his head sheepishly, "No problem." He replied but as I was ready to go back inside, he called, "Um Ellie, I hope you're not mad at me, anymore."

Walking always soothed me, didn't matter if my feet felt like they were on fire, I walked to him and punched him playfully on the shoulder. "Of course I am silly." I teased, hoping to lighten up the mood a little.

Harry only laughed it away. The tension no longer hanging over us. "Listen," He then proceeded, drawing my attention. " I didn't get to tell you sooner but I'm flying to London tomorrow."

That took me off guard. The summer had just began and he was already planning to go on a vacation. I don't know why but suddenly my heart started to beat faster at thought of his absence.

"What?" I stuttered, " I mean for how long?"

"Well I'd be gone only for only a few weeks, " He shrugged," Max sent an invitation."

I should've figured. "Oh him again?" Jealousy clouded my tone as I bit down my tongue.

Last summer this British guy named Max and Harry met at Art Café. They somehow ended up being really close friends after only a few weeks which made me more than a little furious since Harry had always been my best friend. _My_ only friend. Soon I learned more about their relationship. I felt a little bitter inside for losing him but all the while I was happy for him. I respected his decision. Besides why couldn't he be both a good friend to me and a lover to Max? So I tried to let it slip, that was until Max was gone back to his country and although I felt sorry for Harry, I couldn't hide the jolliness inside my stomach. I was more than happy to have Harry all to myself again. Of course Harry never really talked about him ever again, so I naturally thought they'd broken up or something and it was over until now.

It seemed like I was wrong.

"It's for this music festival," Harry continued, luckily unaware of my tensed body. I could see how hard he tried to keep his face straight but it was impossible to ignore the excitement in his eyes., " I mean I could ask him to buy you a ticket too but he just called this morning and—"

"Hey," I squeezed his arm, interrupting him. " Don't worry about it, I'm happy for you. Really, " I shook my head and forced a smile, " I really am."

"Thanks," He said. It was ridiculous how lonely I felt that moment. One because Harry kept it from me all along and two because he was going to go away even if for a while. He was the only one I hung around with. He deserved it of course but what about me? what was I supposed to do while he was gone? Suddenly I had this strong urge of crying but I bit down my bottom lip to hold back the tears.

"Ellie, " His friendly voice echoed in my head, as I blinked away the fresh tears in my eyes. " I think it's time for you too,"I raised a brow in shock, pretending not to know what he was talking, "Find someone. Be happy."

"Well I am happy." I shrugged indifferently.

"C'mon, I know you're fine on you own. But—" He shook his head from side to side," how would you know if you never try? I mean have you looked at yourself in the mirror? You're gorgeous, cute, smart, talented." I pulled a face at that. I'd always been a little self-conscious about both my looks and abilities and now I thought Harry was just exaggerating. "I'm serious. Guys and gals out there would die to be with someone like you. You've been studying your whole teenage life. Now I know you can't go back to high school and fix all that but now's your chance. Put yourself out there, just show the world how awesome you really are."

Silence followed by his long speech wasn't something to avoid. I hated to admit but he was right. I'd always been the quiet nerdy type, whereas inside there had been always a storm going on in me. But what if I never wanted to change things. I only enjoyed my peaceful summer nights with him, arguing and bantering. I enjoyed sitting silently across him, writing stories and sketching and taking small sips of my cool lemonade. Now not only he was leaving but also he asked me to make things different? Only thinking about it made me uncomfortable.

"Fine Harry." Somehow though I didn't find the strength in me to argue about it. Besides I didn't want his last memory of me before traveling would be me being a distasteful jealous sounding bitch." Don't worry about it. You try to have lots of fun with Max there, alright?"

"Promise me when I get back from London you have either a boyfriend or a girl friend."

I wrinkled my nose at that. "How about I promise you I won't be a virgin till then, huh?" I winked at him in a flirtatious manner which made him burst into laughing.

"That's my girl. You know I love you." He said, pulling me into a tight embrace.

As I patted his back, trying to coat my trembling voice by sounding high-pitched and cheeky, I said. "Yeah I know."

"Well, " He drew back, looking in my eyes and I think he saw how depressed I already was only by looking at me," See you soon then."

"Take care, see you."

Then he walked away and I felt my heart pacing up in my ribcage and my face suddenly getting too hot while my hands were freezing and I couldn't breathe. I thought about how all the other 80 day something day of the summer would go without him. I hated waking up next morning, thinking of going to my special place without getting to see _my only friend,_ around. But I didn't have a saying in that now did I? A few seconds standing there, I had no other choice but to turn around and go inside.

The next morning I decided not to go to Art Café first thing in the morning. I even didn't go to the airport. Henry said it wasn't a big deal and it wasn't like he wouldn't come back in a few weeks anyway. So we said goodbye over the phone for the second time and then I demanded him to bring me something from London. I didn't care what it was. I just wanted to make sure he wasn't going to forget about me back at home.

I actually slept late that morning, which was a bizarre thing for me to do, since I'm normally a morning person. When I woke up, I spent five hours watching America's Next Top Model and ate all the junk foods I could find. Around 4 in the afternoon, I knew I couldn't pretend to be a sack of potatoes anymore so even though it was practically blazing hot outside, I grabbed my back pack and started for my comfort zone.

I tried not to think about Harry all the way there and even when I got there, as I entered and the cool fresh air inside made me feel like I'd just entered heaven I tried not to ponder over his absence. It was relatively empty at 4:30 as I chose a comfortable spot near the bar, sat on a stool and ordered a lemonade but as I was about to pull out my notebook a folded paper in my bag slipped on the ground.

Picking it up, I stared at it for a moment, remembering our bantering with Harry. I looked at the circular cracked pot as Harry put it and the human form sitting on the edges. His hands were too long to be humanly, along with them his strands of hair was connected to a dark cloud that surrounded him. I wondered if it was that hard to understand what the picture really meant but then maybe it really was nothing more than a meaningless doodle. I sighed unknowingly at the though and then placed it on the table before going back to my notebook opening it up my to a fresh page and starting with a new idea in my head. Radiohead's Creep was playing on the jukebox as I drew curved lines on the paper, ascended and descended the tip of my pencil with every beat of the song. Sipping from my lemonade and getting lost in a world that wasn't neither imaginary nor real.

 _Whatever makes you happy._

 _Whatever you want_

 _You're so fuckin' special_

 _I wish I was special_

 _But I'm a creep, I'm a weirdo_

 _What the hell am I doing here?_

 _I don't belong here_

 _I don't belong here._

"Your surroundings keep you from evolving, huh?" My thoughts were soon torn apart by the deep voice coming from somewhere at the back of my head. I turned to look at whoever was speaking when the stool next to me was dragged harshly on the ground and a tall man sat on it casually. All I could see was how broad his shoulders were in that black T-shirt he was wearing and how his long dirty blond hair had covered his face. For a moment I thought my mind had only been tricking me and what I heard was only in my head, not even real so I turned my attention back to the notebook. " But what if we turn it upside down? hmm? Then it simply looks like a smiling clown."

The same voice echoed in my ears and my eyes shot up as the man beside me turned and I finally saw how handsome he actually looked with dark brown eyes and sharp cheekbones. As he threw me the hugest grin possible on a human face, I couldn't help but to feel a little uneasy at the bottom of my stomach especially when I noticed how he'd gripped the edges of the paper with my sketch from yesterday on it. There was something...something off about him. Something I couldn't exactly put my finger on it.

Little did I know that day this stranger showing up at the Art Cafe and Creep playing on the Jukebox at the same time wasn't only a sick coincidence, either.

 _To be continued..._

* * *

 _A/N: I'm alive and I'm back with something new._

 _Hope you enjoyed._

 _Cheers,_

 _Bella_


	2. Chapter 2

**II**

I didn't dare to look away from his unwavering gaze. He was still smiling widely. It wasn't mocking not nice or endearing either. Definitely not one of those smiles Harry used to give me most often. I just found it eerily uncomfortable. Well it was quite natural, I didn't know the guy but there was something more about the smile. Maybe the fact that it didn't match the empty, isolated look in his chocolate eyes or even the way he used it as some kind of a distraction to snatch my pencil out of my hand.

"If you don't mind," He raised his brows, his voice a husky whisper that sent shivers down my spine. I almost jump at the realization, watching as he made some fast dark lines on my sketch. "Like this," he said.

I was too bedazzled to get angry at him for invading my personal space and touching my stuff without permission. Slowly I looked down on the paper to see what he'd done to my drawing. There were two black holes on the supposed circular pot. Of course I didn't understand what he meant at first but as I did as he told (flipping the paper upside down) then I sort of did. The pot somehow looked like a head and two black hurriedly drawn holes on them looked like actual eyes while the supposed to be branch-looking strands of hair stuck in cloud of thoughts looked like a ruff. But there was still—

"Something..." He titled his head, a slight frown beginning to form on his forehead, "Something's missing." He started absentmindedly tapping the end of the pencil on the table like a drumstick, "Missing. Missing. " He huffed in frustration and pushed his hair out of his eyes.

My gaze flickered between him and the sketch as I finally blurted out, " The smile." His head shot in my direction so fast I thought I heard something crack in his neck. I blinked at his empty expression. There was no trace of the smile on his face, quite the contrary actually, he was glaring at me with a creased brow, like I've just insulted him or something.

I gulped but despite myself leaned on the table casually, pointing at the picture. "You forgot the smile," I said and he tilted his head at me now with a look of confusion. I shook my head and crossed my arms, repeating what he'd previously said about the picture. "You said it looks like a smiling clown, remember?" He sat up straight at that, his eyes glowing with something I couldn't comprehend. I didn't pay attention to his expression though as I smirked confidently, "It looks nothing like one. "

Maybe I should've never said it. Maybe I should've never sounded that self-assured or maybe I shouldn't have smirked. I don't know. There aren't many things in life that I regret doing. But that certainly is and always be one of them if not the most high-lighted one.

The wide smile had returned then. But that didn't matter, it was the eyes that mattered. His pupils dilated and the once chocolate empty eyes suddenly turned to something else, something that devoured all the remaining color and caused his eyes to change to coal. I never thought it was possible for a human-being to change colors. It wasn't uncomfortable anymore; it was _frightening_ to look into them.

"Ah…yeah." He said suddenly in a sing-song voice and then let go of the pencil, then reached his hand into his pocket and pulled out a _pocket knife_. I instinctively took aback and watched him in horror as he stuck the knife into the table, dragging the tip on the picture, beneath the black holes he drew a curve.

"Voila!" Chirping excitedly, he leaned back in his chair. There, on the supposed clown picture was a crooked curve carved. I didn't wait for him to make another move, to say something else or to look at me with that creepy smile though. The guy had a knife and he was sitting only inches away from me. I was petrified. So I instantly grabbed my bag and ran for the door.

I heard his voice afterwards; perhaps he said something perhaps he didn't. Perhaps he only laughed my reaction off. I didn't stay long enough to make it out anyway, the only thing I remember was that when I got home my heart felt like it would jump out of my chest, my throat was dry and panting and sweating I couldn't help but to lock myself inside my room. I only came out when my parents got home that evening.

I thought about all the things that could possibly happen to me then. Of course it was in the middle of the day and we were in a public place, a café. But Art Café was near the Narrows and the Narrows was never safe, not even in the daylight. Or maybe nothing would happen and I was just being a chicken but I couldn't risk it now could I? it was only me and Lars, the café man, and the stranger and even Lars wasn't anywhere around. I have heard stories of young girls being attacked or raped in the most unlikely places in Gotham. On top of that were my parents, they'd always told me not to go near the bridge and I was doing that anyway so what would it tell them about me if they'd somehow find out about it. I just wanted to prove them that I wasn't a child anymore and I could protect myself just fine. Still though—

To think about my favorite place had easily turned to such eerie, not-going-there-from-now-on place over a day just at the same time that Harry left, made me want to cry my eyes out. _Where was I supposed to spend my time now?_ Was the question running in my head the rest of the day. I didn't break down though. As much as I was scared and didn't want to go back in there in fear of meeting that guy again, I was _curious._

I stared at my unfinished drawing. Trying to keep my mind off of what had happened by remembering what I wanted to draw back at the Café in the first place. But the events of the day kept coming and I couldn't stop them. I though about the picture I left at the Café. The one that the stranger took it and changed it thoroughly. He twisted it by drawing black holes in it and disfigured it even further with his knife. _But_ w _hy would he do that?_ Could it be that he was just messing with me or did he mean something? But what?

I tore the paper out, bundled it into a ball and threw it into the trash can. I wish I could know somehow. I gazed at the blank paper, chewing on the end of my pencil and thinking of a new idea but I couldn't focus. _There sure as hell is no way I go back in that café. Not until Harry returns._ I thought.

If only I was true to my own words.

 _To be continued..._

* * *

 _A/N: Perhaps I update this again later today. I've been hella busy these last few days and **THIS** here didn't let me sleep so I just had to write it. _

_More weirdness and pre-Joker A.K.A creepy stranger next chapter!_

 _Cheers,_

 _Bella_


	3. Chapter 3

**III**

I didn't know what dream I was having but when I woke up, I was all clammy and my heart was beating fast, my breathing shallow and it felt as if someone was pushing down hard on my chest. I couldn't scream or move no matter how much I tried with every ounce of power in me. All I could do was move my eyes around.

I was lying in my bed, facing towards the center of my bedroom, my back facing the wall. I could see all around my room, the TV, the desk, bookshelf. Everything was in its place as clear and as normal as it could be. But somehow I felt like I something was missing. My eyes moved frantically from one corner to the other as I started to hear a scratching noise behind me on the bed sheet: Slow and long scratches. And as it was getting closer and closer to me, it turned to whimpers— laughs maybe. I couldn't figure it out. I could hear it getting closer and closer to my head and when it reached my pillow, I gathered all my energy to push myself against the mattress to turn around.

Facing an eternal hallway, now I was standing in the middle where it led to a single open window. However it was blocked by a silhouette. The hallway pulled me close to the window and as I got closer I could see the tall and lanky figure belonged to a man, standing with his back to me. I watched him leaning forward the window frame, almost as if he wanted to jump out of it.

My heart skipped a bit then. I felt like I was about to lose something very important to me. I fought the urge to cry and opened my mouth to scream to get his attention. But my voice was gone. I tried to move and grab his arm but it was as if I was rooted to the ground. There was no feeling in my legs. Slowly I looked down, shocked at the fact that I had indeed no legs. I had ethereal roots instead, stuck to the ground. Looking at my hands, I found my fingers elongated skin taut around the bones. My eyes shot up at the man, still at the window. He slowly moved away, turning to face me.

And that was when I lost focus of him. The only thing I remember from his face was how mutilated and unbearable it looked, covered with inky shadows moving along the torn skin like leeches. He had black holes instead of eyes and no other real feature. No nose or mouth. I was terrified, trying to look away as he walked to me. The eerie sound of whimpers and laughters rang through my ears as he appeared in duplicate. And so he did again and again, until my vision was completely overtaken by enormous clones of him.

Once again I opened my mouth to scream and run but it was impossible when I was some kind of a plant. My roots digging deeper and deeper into the dark soil with every little struggle. I watched as some of the clones started to fade then, replaced by new ones. Showing the same horrifying image of the broken man. I could feel something inside me pumping loudly, pounding thunderously and wanting to destroy me from the inside. My eyes burned with tears and I felt this sunken feeling of rage and sorrow, I had never experienced before. It might have been eternity since it had begun and I only wish it would stop but the more I wished, the longer it went on but it must have eventually stopped however I don't remember it really ending.

All I remember is a sharp pain in my stomach and after that I wasn't a plant anymore. I was all flesh and bone, bleeding profoundly, seeing life leaving me and universe pulling away from me. Then the voices suddenly stopped and I broke away from whatever was dragging me down, opening my eyes and getting up from the bed. My face was wet and I couldn't stop the sobbing.

The curtains were pulled back, letting all the sunlight pour in. It was clear that it'd only been a nightmare but it felt so real. I could still feel the piercing pain in my stomach. It was ridiculous to pull up my shirt and approve it but I did it anyway. There was no wound, no scar, _nothing. But why did I still feel an aching pain?_

Out of habit I looked over at my desk clock. It was almost nine in the morning. I wondered why mom hadn't woken me, yet. It didn't matter if it was summer, she didn't like me or Sam- my younger brother- sleep so late. Without even washing face, I shuffled out of my room and went straight downstairs to the kitchen.

Mom's favorite song _'Hey Jude'_ was playing loudly. My heart eased at the familiar sound and I felt a little smile tugging at my lips. I was still frantic about the weird dream but now everything felt quite normal. I took the stairs two at a time. My stomach was growling and I knew I was dying for some pancake.

"Hey mo—" I hesitated when I saw no on in the kitchen. I looked over at the radio, playing the song on a loop. I narrowed my eyes suspiciously, eyes darting about, betraying my apprehension. "Mom!" I called, suddenly looking through the window at the backyard.

As I saw a revolting sight near the wood-line, fear gripped my heart again. I gasped; surely I didn't see what I thought I had just seen. Sticking out, behind the shed in the backyard, two sets of legs stretched out on the grass. The accompanying feet were concealed by rose bushes.

"Mom! Dad! "I screamed as terror threatened to throttle my throat. I panicked and ran through the porch, and bolted down the downtrodden steps. In my haste, I tripped over the steps near the grass, dropping to all fours. A couple of my fingers sunk through the ground and my fingernails were caked with dirt.

When I arrived at the shed, there was nothing there. I looked behind the bushes, panting. That was when the song played again. I looked around at the kitchen's window and saw mom by the stove. _What was happening?_

The music started off normally but it was out of tune, slow and haunting, one that seemed to weave an intoxicating spell, leaving me disoriented, lightheaded. The it became sickening like someone scratching their nails on a board. Nauseous and sick, I felt the pain in my stomach getting more visible as I heard someone breathing heavily behind my back

Slowly I turned around. The same man I saw at the window, the one with the hunched figure leaned closer, grinning in the crook of my neck, he whispered, "Smile."

I woke up in the middle of the night then, covering in what seemed to be sweats and tears.

"How's London?"

I popped a blue M&M in my mouth, flicking it around on my tongue as I heard Harry's cheerful tone over the phone. "Horribly sunny," He said sarcastically," But Ellie I think it is the most exciting city in the whole world. I'm actually considering moving in here."

I snorted loudly," You're only saying that because of Max."

It was only five in the afternoon and there wasn't anything good on TV. I was beginning to feel a little more than jealous towards Harry. There he was having fun obviously and here I was practically doing nothing.

"No really we got to go together once. It's not as dull as Downtown Abbey shows it to be."

"Downtown's Abbey is actually a good series, Harry."

"It's overrated." I heard a chuckle on the other end of the line. "So how are you?"

I tucked my legs up, sighing. "Fine, I guess."

"Aren't you going to Art Café?"

"Not today, there's really nothing I can do there." I started twirling a chunk of hair around my finger. I was still nervous about what had happened yesterday and my nightmare didn't help my current situation. I felt much better now though. The nightmare seemed like a distant piece of memory now. I couldn't exactly remember the details but still the very thought of made me shudder.

"Well it never was an entertaining place to begin with. You just sit there and do whatever you always do."

I considered telling him about the yesterday's incident. It was likely for Harry to tell me to brush it off though. But I knew I could always trust his judgment. He never overacted like my parents and wasn't as carefree as Sam. "Listen Harry um, yesterday there was this guy at the café, he was really weird. He actually took my sket—" I was suddenly cut off by the sound of screaming and applause on the other end of the line.

Then a third voice echoed in my ear. A guy- possibly Max- spoke in British accent. "Hey Harry what are you doing? They're beginning!"

"I'm coming—" Harry called back, before pausing. The loud sound of music instruments could be heard clearly. "I'm sorry Ellie, I really gotta go but I'll talk to you soon, Okay?"

I could only fake laughing so he'd understand that I wasn't annoyed but the truth is I was. "Yeah, talk to you soon."

And just like that he hung up the phone. I tossed my phone on the table and continued on watching a TV program about wild nature in the oceans. I felt like a dagger had just cut through my heart. I was convinced that I'd lost my only friend and it hurt more than it I'd imagined.

"Who needs a friend? Huh?" I shrugged trying hard to convince myself that I was happy being alone. "Not me." I muttered, staring at the notebook. My hands were itching to draw something, anything to keep them from shaking so badly. But my mind was too slow to follow and so the result was just a few angry dark lines that represented nothing.

 _How was it possible to think of a new idea outside the café?_ My mind drifted back to the stranger. _Who was he to prevent me from going there?_ _That was my place._ He was just an outsider. If I couldn't stand up for myself now, how could I lead a life in a city like Gotham? I was eighteen. When was I going to learn independency? With that thought in mind I closed the notebook and got to my feet then stomped my way to the door, only to see Sam running down the stairs.

"Where are you going?" I asked, glaring through narrowed eyes as he held his hand behind his back suspiciously.

He shrugged innocently. "Going to a game lounge with some friends."

I tried to peek behind his back but he deliberately moved away from me. Putting my hand on my hips, I asked, "Are you going to take the car?"

"Yeah, why?"

"I need you to take me somewhere."

I knew how Sam was trying to hide not only the pocket of cigarette but something more. I realized it the minute I saw his unusual emphasizes on the game lounge. But I didn't plan on snitching in return as he pulled over near the bridge I made him promise not to tell anyone about where I was really going and that was a deal.

As I got closer to the café I couldn't fake being relaxed anymore. Funny how tables had turned so suddenly. I used to come in here feeling all worn out and flustered about how my father had started yet another lecture for about an hour about _my_ supposed future plans, but as soon as I entered all that would fade away. Now though I had to count to ten just to calm my nerves before entering the building. I only prayed the stranger wouldn't be there. However it was unlikely for him to be.

I looked through the window. Inside was dark as always but hopefully it was almost empty aside from a middle-aged woman with a tight little skirt sitting at the bar. I took a breath anyway and entered. A bell tinkled loudly and my nostrils quickly filled with smell of fresh coffee and cinnamon buns.

"Hey Ellie. " Lars looked up and smiled a greeting which made the woman at the counter turn and look at me out of curiosity. I waved and chose a table at the end of the café near the jukebox. Lars knowing exactly what I craved soon came with a glass of mojito.

"Thanks Lars." I took a sip, knowing how boring it'd become without a little joyful music after a while. I stood and walked to the jukebox. Casually dropping in the quarters, I selected a light-spirited song. _Bryan Adam's Heaven_ soon filled the space. Feeling inspired I sat back on my chair and started sketching. It was nothing in particular at the beginning but it slowly took the form of a sun, lighting and casting shadows all around a small room.

All worries gone. I completely forgot about how anxious I was before coming here. Now that Harry was clearly enjoying his summer why would torture myself thinking about what'd be like if he was around? might as well I enjoy myself while it lasted. A new idea triggered in my head and I started drawing a small shadow walking upside down on the ball of sun that was hung from the ceiling. A girl walked between the flaming surface, burning, slowly dying and turning into dust whilst living all along. The walls slowly melted, the little room destroyed in the fire. Everything was burning, including the girl. I had the impression of making it look like nothing would remain after. Not the ashes, not the bones. Only a blank space with nothing to be missed. Completely overwhelmed with the music, I was completely rapt with it-

When everything suddenly stopped. Disappeared. _Gone._ And I lost the vision of what I wanted to draw.

"Who listens to shit like that?" I was confused for a split second but when I looked up, I felt the world came crashing down on my head. I looked widely at the blond man with black T shirt, hunching over jukebox and punching his selection almost violently. Not long after, a whole new song was playing on the jukebox.

I frowned. _How dare he so rudely interrupt my song like that?_ My anger getting better of me as I stood up. "Excuse me!" I yelled over the sound.

 _There must be some way out of here_

 _Said the joker to the thief_

 _There's too much confusion, I can't get no relief_

 _Businessmen, they drink my wine_

 _Plowmen dig my earth_

 _None of them along the line know what any of it is worth_

He returned grinning, his eyes squinted. "Now that's called a good song." He pointed before sitting right across the table confidently as he owned the place. "Hey there! what're you sketching today?"

His smug smile irritated me more than frightening me this time. But I just had to remind myself that the word dangerous was written all over the man's face and so that made me sit slowly back down on my chair, glaring into his granite eyes with my lips locked into a tight line. The attitude though seemed to only amuse him further. " Wanna run out again? Cause it's a little out of character for a little _kitty_ to chicken out like that."

At first I didn't realize what he meant but as he raised both brow and motioned his head at my shirt with an exaggerated expression I got it and that somehow made cheeks flush at the picture of the little black cat on my shirt. A frustrated growl rumbled in my throat, leaning in closer to him, I gritted. "Just what do you want from me?"

He rested his elbows down hunching closer towards me. "You didn't answer my question. Are you a chicken or a kitty?" He extended an index finger, pointing vehemently.

I let out an exasperated sigh, once again annoyed that dude was messing with me. _Did he really not know?_ " You had a knife!"

His eyebrows lifted, watching me with eyes so dark they were nearly black. He was trying to unnerve me. A piece of shoulder length blond hair fell across one eye and he gave his head a toss. " You had a pencil." He said almost as if mimicking my tone.

"What?" I asked confused as he crossed his hands over his chest, leaning back casually.

"A pencil… as you know is mightier than a knife." Nodding his head, he said.

 _No reason to get excited, the thief, he kindly spoke_

 _There are many here among us who feel that life is but a joke_

I watched as he flexed his finger and lifted his chin at me, a smug smile on his face as he brought out a folder paper. "You forgot this."

I pushed the paper back to him, grousing. "I don't want it."

He looked as if offended, his smile slowly falling downward. "But it's your sketch."

"You changed it." I retorted, trying hard to keep my face blank. "It's not mine anymore."

He only shrugged indifferently in response. "I just added a little _spice_ ; now it makes much more sense don't you think?"

Unknowingly my eyes flickered back to the painting it was as ugly and chaotic as the nightmare I just had the previous night but somehow my curiosity still lingered stronger than ever. It washed away the uneasiness I took the paper to look at it intently. The last lines of the lyrics flew over my head.

 _But you and I, we've been through that, and this is not our fate_

 _So let us not talk falsely now, the hour is getting late_

I looked around the cafe. It was pretty crowded. There were two other customers other than the woman and the stranger in front of me and that made me pretty confident. There was nothing harmful he could do. I wanted to know what he really thought about my sketch, well before he decided to make it as his own.

"It was supposed to represent a peaceful meaning now it's just—" I waved my hands in the air, looking for a right word. "Chaotic."

His eyes somehow gleamed, his face once again changing into a wide grin. "That is what makes it _sur-real._ " He drawled sarcastically. I didn't like the way he spoke or the fact that he kept calling _'kitty'_ , it sounded both insulting and uncomfortable. "It's the utter confusion that gives an art meaning. After all you can't spell an artist without _anarchist._ "

 _Outside in the distance a wildcat did growl  
Two riders were approaching, the wind began to howl_

I glanced at the new sketch in my notebook, confused I said. "But then it has even less meaning."

"Who says it has to have a meaning?" I looked at him bewildered. "As René Magritte says mystery means nothing you simply oughta enjoy it."

I suddenly perked to it. _He knew Magritte._ I had to keep myself not to squeal at the new knowledge. Quickly I pushed my notebook to him, smiling widely, mirroring his expression for the first time. "What do you think?" I asked, unable to hide my excitement now.

He cocked his head, looking at me through narrowed eyes then took a quick glance at the picture. He looked up again asking. "Now you want to know _my_ opinion?"

"Why not?" I beamed. He knew about surrealism. _He had ideas._ I already felt a connection." Since you know Magritte, I guess it's safe to tell you my name's Ellie, and yours? "I stuck out my hand hoping anticipating the usual greeting. He started at me for a moment. His expression unreadable as I tried to keep my composure and then all of a sudden Boom! he threw back his head and started laughing. _Hysterically_ laughing. To the point where it was almost getting hard for him to breath.

I watched with a small frown, wondering what I'd said wrong as he finally came up for air." Seriously you're a funny little thing. You trust people that easy _El-lie?_ " At that moment part of me wanted to get up and slap him hard across the face, the other part though wanted to run out the door and never look back again but I didn't do neither. I just sat there, impatiently that is, so his laughing would subside.

"Call me Jay," He finally sucked in air winking, which supposed to be somehow friendly or even flirty but slightly backfired. I momentary forgot how to breathe as he leaned forward, licked his lips and whispered. "We can be uh _frie-nds._ "

 _To be continued..._

* * *

 _A/N: Thanks for the follows and favorites._

 _I love including song lyrics in this story, it just gives the concept a whole different meaning so if you're wondering what the last song is, it's "All Along The Watchtower" by Jimi Hendrix. I kinda imagine Joker has a good taste in music so... that's that._

 _Cheers,_

 _Bella_


	4. Chapter 4

**IV**

It'd been only four days since we first met well since he practically freaked me out yet still I was ridiculously asking for more chances to see him again, although there was still a somehow strange kind of feeling about him that made me watch for my mouth and keep my distance. He was different from all the other guys I had encountered before not that they were many still I felt like he stood out from the crowd.

Jay didn't seem like a guy to care about art— or anything for that matter — at all but sometimes it sounded as if it was the most important thing to him and I'd be lying to myself to say that I didn't find that attractive. With all the weirdness he had, he was complicated. Sometimes I didn't even understand what he was referring to, or where he was getting at, but it made him all the more interesting to me. As scary as it sounded, I had absolutely no idea why I hopelessly wanted to figure him out.

"So Francis Bacon?"

I watched him digging into a big plate of pasta. A forkful of it soon disappeared into his mouth as he looked up and pointed his fork at me with a raised brow. "A uh… _guy."_ He responded sarcastically.

It was 7:30 in the evening and even though I knew I was going to be late for the dinner with my _oh-so-heartwarming_ family I was still there, sitting at the same table with him, discussing art. "Well I know he's a _guy_ but do you think if he really was a madman as some claim or the greatest artist of the twentieth century?" I asked, assuming he actually knew about Francis Bacon but when a full minute passed and the only sound that could be heard was the faint noise of some TV show Lars was watching and Jay smacking his lips, I realized he wasn't going to answer.

So letting a frustrated sigh, I explained," He was known for having a grotesque imagery. His paintings were mostly impulsive and supposedly meaningless. I mean just look at his paintings, that dude must have had dealt with a lot of inner turmoil to let out his feelings in those… unpleasant images. Not that I don't respect his work and all but I still can't get over of his _Scream_ painting, it makes me shiver every time I look at it—"

"Out."

I paused, looking at Jay, confused. He was leaning back now his plate empty and his tongue running along his lips as he tapped his fingers on the table with a bored expression on his face.

 _Did I heart him actually say something?_

"I'm sorry, what?"

Casually he pushed his blond locks out of his eyes, repeating impatiently. "Out. You said inner uh… _tur-moil_."

There was more than a touch of sarcasm in his voice. "O-kay," I carefully searched his face, waiting for a smirk or even some kind of laugh. But he looked completely neutral. "So you don't think that he was really mad?" I asked cautiously.

"What do _you_ think?"

"Well I'd say he was pretty messed up in the head."

He leaned to me this time, looking accusingly, as if he could see right through my every little secret in there. "Doesn't that make you _pretty_ messed-up too?"

I was taken aback. Feeling offended as I recalled how Bacon's interpretation of scream was so close to Jay's version of _Smiling Face_ (Yes that was the name I gave my disfigured drawing)

He however didn't even wait for a respond, as he continued gazing at me with those coal-black eyes. "People really can't get over their labels, can they? They label Francis Bacon—whoever he is— crazy and they call you messed up in the head because you like following their footsteps."

"I didn't say I like following his footsteps. I only said I respected him."

"Then you're a hypocrite, too."

"I'm not—"

A dry laugh escaped his lips, "Who are you deceiving _Kitty_? You," He said, pointing his index finger at me, closing one eye" Clearly enjoy all the _gore_ and _un-plea-sant_ imagery in his paintings. Your problem is that you're looking for a meaning in all that." Leaning back again, he shrugged indifferently, "I thought we were over that one. There's. No. Meaning."

 _But what was an art without meaning?_ I didn't get the chance to ask as he got up from the table, threw a wad of money on the table and started walking to the door. _Was he leaving? So soon?_

As He opened the door, I jumped from my chair and ran to him. " Wait!"

He was standing right outside the front door. And that was where it hit me. The whole scene felt like a déjà vu. I could swear I had seen him before with his back to me. Not here of course, somewhere else, maybe a building. I couldn't exactly remember but the thought tightened my chest and suddenly I felt a big lump in my throat.

"What are you doing?—"I asked in a loud whisper.

Jay's shoulders pinched in response but he didn't turn toward me, keeping his attention focused in the distance. "Shshshsh you're ruining the moment _kitty_ , just listen."

I pulled a face at the nick name he'd given me but kept my mouth shut, listening. Car's squealing tires, people shouting, swearing, a woman screaming, sirens calling, shooting, dumping, burning. _What was so special about these voices?_

"Wait for i ** _t_**."

My stomach did a queasy flip-flop at that. I turned and studied the area, curious as to what he was so rapt with. We stood together, straining to hear the undefined trouble in the relative silence of the area. In the distance a car blasted down a side street, rattling windows with its booming music. My lungs began to burn and I realized I'd been holding my breath. I looked at him from the corner of my eyes. He'd had kept his eyes shut, his hands in his pockets. _What was wrong with him?_ , I wondered.

Then I took a quick look at my watch, "Oh no," I knew I was going to late, dad surely would go crazy. With an annoyed roll of my eyes I turned away to leave but before I took a step I finally heard the sound Jay supposedly was waiting for. Somewhere from the east of the Wayne Enterprises Tower a long eerie howl echoed through the city and then I glared at him.

"What was that?! "

Slowly he turned to me, now a wide grin on his face, he gestured at nowhere in particular and said. "That was an inspiration for your art today," bending so that he could look into my eyes, he winked. "You're welcome."

 _To be continue..._

* * *

 _A/N:_

 _All those who have followed and added this story to their favorites : Thank you!_

 _Cheers,_

 _Bella_


	5. Chapter 5

**V**

Something didn't feel right that Saturday morning.

I knew it the moment I woke up to the sound of dad yelling at Sam and him slamming the door behind and driving away urgently. I didn't know what it was exactly about but I guessed Sam coming home late last night again could possibly be the reason. _Dr Matthew Crane_ , my father, was very strict about being home on time. But now that I think about it he was strict about everything else too. Never let us hang out with friends after school, (not that I had any) or attend in any kind of party or social event other than the official celebrations usually held in town's city hall and other boring events his colleagues mostly invited him.

Sometimes I blamed dad for my introversion and having social anxiety. I wasn't brave when it came to people and communicating with them, I rather stay home and read, write and mostly draw but dad even didn't like that. Most of the time he accused me of wasting my intelligence on something that would never pay off, drawing was ridiculous and a waste of the time. Dad wanted the best for me. I knew that. It wasn't like that I was going to become an artist anyway—

But I just couldn't stop.

Last night I was dying to follow Jay and find out more about the strange explosion sound but when I picked up my phone to dad's angry voice, I knew I had no choice but to leave. I actually half-expected Jay to laugh at me or mock me in one way or another but he just stood there, lit a cigarette and stared at me like I was an alien or something, when I said goodbye, he didn't respond either and when I turned to go away he was still staring. I wouldn't describe it as creepy and weird though, the kind of staring that reminds you of psychopaths and crazy murderers, it was more like something out of curiousness but I guess I never know.

Dad was still shouting and complaining when I walked to the bathroom to brush my teeth. By now I knew he had brought up me and my unexpected behavior from last night. But hopefully the sound of flowing water from faucet blocked out all the other voices. I looked up and took a long look at myself then.

I wasn't exactly beautiful. I was short, not too fat, not too thin with long wavy brown hair that reached below my waistline and naturally tanned skin. Small lips with dimples on each side of my cheeks. _Ordinary_ , I thought.

But I had these bright honey eyes, not definitely something to die for somehow though I was proud of them. Maybe it was because whenever anyone be it Harry or mom— and believe me those were the two only people that I ever had a real conversation with— wanted to compliment me, they'd say how I had the most extraordinary beautiful eyes. I let out a sigh and held back my hair to get a look at them.

"Wow, I'm pathetic."

And then something even sadder happened as I thought of Jay and how this stranger suddenly had become the only other person other than mom and Harry that I talked to. And not just talk; we had full-blown conversation for hours.

 _Did he… like me?_ I had to shake my head at that. _Why would I care about what he thought of me?_ I even didn't know his real name or how old he was or what he did for living. He was definitely older than me or even Harry but I wasn't sure.

I was beginning to like him though. No, I didn't like him as a person, I mean I kind of did but it was mostly because of his strange ideas about art and all. And his knowledge, he was the only person that cared about my sketches, even Harry wasn't interested and Harry was my _only_ friend.

"Ellie!" I suddenly snapped out of my thoughts at the sound of dad's voice. "Are you awake yet?"

"Yeah I'm in the bathroom!" I yelled back in response, quickly brushed my teeth and jumped down the steps two at a time to find mom and dad sitting in the living room. "Morning."

"Are you going somewhere today?" Dad asked in a monotonous voice.

"Yeah… um I'm going to the library." I lied. I usually didn't go to café on Saturdays but today was an exception. I had to see Jay. I mean not that I was obliged to but—I just wanted to ask him about last night's incident.

"What do you exactly do at the library Ellie?" Gazing at me, dad's blue eyes looked huge behind his thick glasses.

He and Uncle Jon shared same yet at the same time different eyes. Even though Uncle Jon was more sympathetic and understanding and not as cold hard as dad, his eyes looked colder, more soulless than of dad's.

I had to fight with everything in me not to shrug and sound as if I was disrespectful and utterly rude. "Um… read?"

Dad only shook his head in what I interpreted as disappointment. _No matter what I did or say, wasn't enough for him._ "Did you study that book I gave you about neurological surgery? You know it is one of the essentials for your major in university."

"I'm working on it."

"You're working on it?"

Rolling my eyes unknowingly I almost whined. "Daddy please, it's summer."

"Yes and only one month away from school." Dad began again with yet another lecture." You know that I won't let it slip easily Ellie, you have to top your class at Gotham University. Just like I did."

Even Uncle Jon made fun of dad's unnecessary arrogance and _he_ was one of the most arrogant people I've ever seen.

I nodded sheepishly, avoiding any further explanation. "Yes sir."

Bringing up a piece of paper, I immediately recognized it was one of my sketches. "Now don't you go off somewhere, drawing these meaningless shapes you call _art_." He pronounced the last word so poisonously; I thought he was going to vomit. _Why did he hate it so much ?_

"Dad—" I began but cut off right away.

"No Ellie, do not interrupt me, I don't want to go hard on you now but you have to stop this. Your life has meaning. You have a purpose. You're going to be a physician, follow _my_ footsteps and you'll become successful."

"Yes sir." I simply said and watched mom from the corner of my eye. She knew that I wasn't happy but I also knew that she supported dad more than anyone else and that was why she didn't say anything. My throat constricted as I swallowed thickly.

Dad didn't wait for any other word as he suddenly stood up and announced loudly. "Okay, now you have a surgery."

I literally jumped up, shrinking." WHAT?!" Looking at mom totally confused, I said." But I hadn't eaten yet."

"Will you have time to eat something when someone call you from hospital in the middle of the night and tell you that you have an emergency?" Dad asked rhetorically.

"No sir." I gazed at the ground.

"Then come with me." He deadpanned, walking out to the back yard and into the shed. Seeing that I had no other choice I followed dutifully.

Inside, there was a steel table with various objects on it but one thing caught my eyes particularly. Something that made me rush past dad. On the table, lay a wounded black rabbit, soaked in blood. Suddenly I found myself not being able to breathe, my heart started pounding and my mouth dried. I looked back at dad with widened eyes.

"Where did you find it daddy? How did this happen to it?"

Slowly walking to me with his arms crossed over his chest, dad stood by the table. "I did it." he said blatantly.

"You what?" I gasped, covering my hands over my mouth." Why would you do that?" I was mortified, looking back with teary eyes at the poor animal.

"Because you need to learn how to save a life." Again dad's cold and unsympathetic voice echoed in my ears.

I felt like my heart would explode within my chest. I wanted to burst into tears, yell at him for what he'd done but I knew I couldn't and I hated it. _How could a man like him save lives?_ I wanted to run away back to the kitchen and tell all about it to mom but I just stood there anyway, gazing at the short breaths the poor animal was struggling to take.

"Come on Ellie," Dad took a quick glance at his watch, urging me impatiently. "You're losing time."

For the first time I greed with my whole heart. I had to do something. I couldn't let it die. Looking for sew and thread and sterilizer on the table, I stuttered. "First uh… first I uh… I need to stop the blood to see how deep the cut is."

"Don't just talk, do it."

Picking up a clean towel, I soaked it and the wound with disinfectant. "C-clean and dis-infect the wound."

"Go one."

My heart was beating so loud, my hands were completely out of control, they were shaking madly cause me to drop the probe on the metallic table, Dad suddenly grabbed my wrist. "Don't panic! If you panic you can't pull it off Ellie. You need to focus, no matter how deep the cut is, no matter how much blood is oozing out, keep calm and do your job."

At last the tears threatening to spill, rolled down my right cheek. "But you cut a poor animal—"

"The reason doesn't matter if your patient's dying!" Dad was serious, his lips forming into a thin line, he paused a moment for his word to sink in. o _h how I hated those eyes on me like that._ " Breathe. what is the next step?"

 _What was the next step_?

I had to get myself under control. I had to show him that I could do this. "I need to sterilize the utensils."

The rabbit started wiggling when dad put his hand on its ears. "Hold still the patient. Keep your hands steady. You don't want the wound on your patient's skin to be ugly and unbearable, do you?"

"No." I responded quickly, blocking out the universe to focus on the poor creature. Now I could see the cut wasn't very deep. Inserting the needle downwards through the sub-dermal layer of the skin, I leveled off the needle and ventured through the wound and to the adjacent wall of the wound. Once across the other side of the wound I returned the needle to the skin's surface through the sub-dermal layers of skin, going deep enough as to not release the skin through a tear.

"Stitching is basic yet the most delicate thing a very skilled surgeon does with their hands. You see this is called art."

Finally I made a diagonal path across the wound again to the next point. Zig zagging my way to the top of the wound, I tied off with a decent knot.

"It doesn't die," I heard dad's voice softened but I didn't look up. I felt so sick to my stomach just standing under the same roof with him." The cut wasn't that deep as you see it didn't destroy any internal organ. This little bunny lives." He might have chuckled or- not. All I felt was this burning feeling of anger inside of me. _Why?_

"You hurt it." Gritting I stomped out, wrapping the rabbit in a clean towel and taking it out with me.

"But you saved it." I heard him say quietly.

I slammed the door from behind, now sobbing as I held the animal closer to my chest. _There goes my shitty morning._

* * *

 _A/N:_

 _Sorry no Joker in this chapter._

 _Hey everybody thanks for the reviews and follows and favorites. I'm glad you're liking this so far. Sorry if this chapter felt like a filler but honestly it wasn't. It was actually very necessary to the story line that I'm going with. Anyway, Just wanted to thank **MaryJPrankster** for pointing out the artist "Francis Bacon" from previous chapter and his painting that is called " Screaming Pope". I am very sorry according to my studies I forgot to mention the painting is actually called that and not "Scream". So in case you've confused Francis Bacon with Edvard Munch and his very famous painting called " The Scream" know that I actually meant "The screaming pope" as this one copes better with my story line. Everything else I said about Francis Bacon was actually true, according to Wikipedia of course lol. _

_Also about the stitching part in this one, sorry if it isn't exactly like this in real life as it's described here, I'm no professional and no doctor of course so I just wrote what one of my nurse friend had told me. I have never stitched a wound before. Plus... that poor bunny! :(_

 _Thanks to **EyeballChambers** for his/her very kind review. I'm glad that you liked this. Joker sure inspires Ellie in more than one way in the future lol _

_More coming next week,_

 _Hopefully_

 _And_

 _Cheers,_

 _Bella_


	6. Chapter 6

VI

"I'm sorry, you had to go through all that?"

I felt a knot in my throat, my mouth was dry and my stomach felt empty as I stroked the wounded bunny, gently. I changed the bandage every ten minutes, trying to disinfect it but it still was badly infected. I had no idea if it was because of the towel I held it in or one of the tools I used to stitch the cut but the more it went the more it seemed as if the poor animal was in pain. I didn't want it to die, I knew if it did, I would've had hated my dad even more.

"People are cruel," I inspected the wound closely, it already looked purplish and ugly. It was _my_ fault. I should've done my job better than that. "They bend you," I whispered, "They break and destroy entirely and make something new out of you—"

I needed antibiotic, but I wasn't interested in leaving my room. That required me to ask dad about them. And I didn't want to talk to him. So I did the only thing I could, opening my notebook to draw.

As I did a wrinkled piece of paper fell out and into my lap. I raised a curious brow and unfolded the paper. It was the smiling clown, staring back at me with two holes as eye sockets, it felt as if it could devoured me in its nothingness. I wish at least I had _Jay's_ number, I needed him more than any time now but—

I stopped myself, shaking my head rapidly why would I need him? _He was only a stranger_. Usually at times like this I would talk to Harry but... I shook my head and I picked up the butchered paper, crumpled it and let it fall down. Then I started with something new. I didn't have to look at the wound on the bunny's stomach to see the patterns, I already knew how messy they were and I didn't held back myself from drawing even messier lines that were supposed to be representing the stitches. I drew a dark circle as a body, filling it with a charcoal pencil until no white spot were left and then I chose a red ink to highlight the bloody stitches.

I felt intensively angry, but centrally calm; Strangely even content with my new sketch. "I'm sorry."

Putting my pencil aside I heard a knock on the door. It was already getting dark and I just realized that today I spent the majority of my time inside this suffocating cage. I should've left home earlier. Maybe I still got the chance to find Jay at the cafe. I jumped on my feet and flung the door open.

Mom was standing there, smiling kindly at me. I frowned, trying to brush her off, pass her by and leave but I couldn't. I was mad at her earlier. She always kept silent when it concerned dad which made me angry each time but as soon I'd see her face, all the negative feelings inside would vanish miraculously. I didn't know if she knew she had that kind of power on me or not.

"Dinner's ready." She said casually. "We're waiting downstairs." Turning on her heels.

"Are we just pretending that whatever dad did this morning was nothing?" I drawled a little more than I intended to but fortunately it got mom's attention as she turned to face me again.

"He was only trying to teach you—"

"Teach me?" I interrupted her. "By hurting a living creature? He knows what I feel about them mom, I didn't become a vegan for the fun of it."

"No one says what he did was okay, Ellie." Mom always spoke in such a calm and sensible manner that could convince even the most conservative people. I thought maybe that was part of the reason why she was such a good lawyer although a good lawyer didn't always mean the honest one. "But he is your father, and he wants the best for _you_."

"He's selfish. What if I don't want him to decide for me. What if I don't want to enter—"

The sound of doorbell interrupted me mid-sentence. _Great._ I was _this_ close to tell her how I actually felt about the med school. She started walking downstairs, exclaiming loudly so even dad could hear her. "It must be Jon."

"Uncle Jon?" I ran after her, seeing dad still was sitting in the living room. He looked up from his laptop so sudden I thought I heard his neck snapped, He was indeed looking shocked.

I knew he wasn't the one who invited Uncle Jon. They weren't exactly talking. In fact last time I saw them together was at grandpa's funeral. I've heard stories though; Uncle Jon wasn't exactly the type to follow the rules. He had a rebellious soul, always wanting to experiment on new things, exactly the opposite polar of dad if you'd ask me. I bet he was always up for a good challenge and that was why he decided to become a psychologist instead of a physician. Now that I think about it, he was actually the first person who chose a different path from the rest of his family and caused the whole family business, my great great great grandfather had set up, to fall apart. Before Jonathan Crane no one was allowed to choose a different career rather than a physician or else they would be considered an outcast.

Grandpa used to say Uncle Jon was different. Not in a good way I suppose but I imagine that was the reason he was called a disgrace to the family. But who can base their opinions on a dead old man's with conservative beliefs? With all due respect to grandpa, I call his ideas pure bullshit. I loved Uncle Jon.

The door opened to reveal _the man_ , standing very straight in a posture that wasn't unfamiliar to me. His pale face was clean shaven and his dark brown hair combed back away from his face. The dark gray of his suit contrasted with the icy blue color of his eyes framed by thin metal rimmed glasses. An exact replica of dad, only he was younger and better looking. He didn't look particularly happy or even sad though. It was hard to read the expression on his face but he greeted mom warmly upon entering.

Dad had to stand up, nodding as he walked to him and shook hands. "How're you doing Jonathan?"

"Never been better." He said politely with the slightest touch of sarcasm in his tone which wasn't out of character at all. " And yourself Matthew?"

"I am well. Thanks for asking."

I already felt the awkward tension in the room. Sam was nowhere to be seen and I knew I had no other choice now but to stay.

"Hey Uncle Jon." I tried to sound casual as I walked downstairs whilst ignoring dad completely.

"Ellie!" Hugging him, I took a step back. " Still planning on becoming a physician just like your _dad_?"

"That is a very sensitive topic Uncle." I let out a nervous laugh.

Fortunately mom's call for the dinner, made her my hero of the day. I didn't want to deal with dad's death stares and Uncle Jon's further questions only to piss off dad.

Table was already set with delicious mushroom and onion soup as starter and lasagna with a mixture of tofu instead of cheese as the main meal. My stomach growled in protest, making me want to skip the soup and already dig into my plate of lasagna. The dinner table though, was annoyingly quiet before mom started speaking.

"So you're still single, Jon?"

Looking up from his plate, Uncle Jon replied, "I'm afraid yes Margaret. As you probably know working at Arkham as a psychiatrist is quite a formidable task . There's a lot of troubled people there seeking my help. "

It must have been difficult for dad as he scoffed, practically silencing everyone at the table. I tried not to frown but I couldn't. The fury I felt against him had returned and now I was just trying to glue myself to my seat so I wouldn't jump up and yell at him for being so rude.

"I don't think experimenting on poor mentally ill people is considered _'helping'_ ."

He shrugged casually and said, a hint of arrogance pervading his tone. "Ah well from error to error, a man can discover the entire truth," he glanced at me, a cold smile gracing his lips as he looked back at dad asking rhetorically, " Am I right brother?"

"So I wanted to ask you Uncle when I can finally visit the asylum? " I asked before dad could start another set of argument. But maybe the words I chose weren't that wise, from the corner of my eyes I could see how livid dad suddenly became.

Right at the moment Uncle Jon opened his mouth to answer, Dad sat straighter and looked at me accusingly. "Why do you want to visit there in the first place?"

I managed a wry smile. "It's for my project." I was planning to visit Arkham for a while now but I wasn't so persistent about it. Somehow our last talk with Jay had triggered me. I thought maybe that Arkham was a place to inspire me. Of course saying this out loud wouldn't exactly make me a person right in the head. OR maybe a part of me deep down wanted to anger dad and take revenge of what he'd done to me that morning, either way I felt adrenaline surging in my veins as he raised a suspicious brow at me.

"Which project? I don't remember any medical project relating to psychos." He hissed, shaking his head. " And going to a forsaken place like Arkham? No one and I mean no one at all is exactly sane in there."

I had enough of his insults, I had enough of the way he talked like he knew everything and everyone and like he was the only important person in the room. I knew Uncle Jon could speak for himself of course but I wasn't about to back down and it was all because of me. "It's for my art dad." I answered firmly.

"What did I tell you about those pieces of crap—"

"No!" Standing up, I cut him off. " No you can't stop me from drawing. You know that I would never stop doing that. And if you keep pushing me like you do now you might never get what you want and I would never…NEVER go to med school. "

Oh god, how I hated those dead blue eyes when they stared emotionlessly right back at me. It scared me. I knew I would never admit it but it did and I could feel my whole body shaking at the feeling. A part of me begged to sit back down again and be an obedient little girl that I always was but what would Uncle Jon think of me then? I didn't want to feel ashamed whenever I'd meet him.

"That's not a way to speak to your father." He told me in a quiet and threatening tone. " I want you to go to your room. "

"Yeah I'll go… but I'm not a fourteen year old anymore to lock myself in my room whenever I say something you don't like to hear. I'm _fucking_ leaving!"

I heard my mom gasped at me but I didn't wait for another respond from dad. Irrationally I took mom's car key from the counter and ran out the door. I couldn't stop sobbing. It was pathetic I knew but I didn't want to stay in that damn place anymore.

As I entered mom's black Audi, somewhere from the back of my head I heard dad's yelling, demanding me to get back inside but I blocked them all out, starting the engine I backed up the car out of garage, took a turn to right and drove away.

It wasn't long before I realize I forgot my phone so I had absolutely no way to find Sam. Harry was abroad and I had no friend to stay in, the night. I also had no money to pay for a hotel room. I could always go to Uncle Jon's place but he was currently at our home besides I didn't want to face him now.

I knew what I did was wrong. It always was. Dad was _always_ right, he had the power and so he could never be wronged. All the thoughts of leaving home someday to lead an independent life was ridiculous when he was around. I should've stopped dreaming of persuading a career I loved. It was useless. What's the point of living like this then? living in someone else's shadow, someone that will never let you reach out and do something different. Something that make you feel alive.

 _But nothing mattered now._

I couldn't see a thing. Tears blurred my vision. I didn't even realize how I absentmindedly took the route to the bridge. I tried to rub my face with the sleeve of my sweater as I drove. I was trying; I really was trying to find a purpose to get me back to the life I was suppose to have. Living as dad's puppet. Saying yes to everything he says, agreeing with his selfish ideas. There was always a way to convince me to go back. I always found a way I knew today wasn't any different, I knew I could—

A shadowy figure stumbling in the middle of the street, caught my attention. It was so sudden I didn't have to think twice before pressing my foot on the brake pedal, hopefully the car's wheels dutifully locked in time. I wiped my watery eyes and looked closely at the empty street that was lightened by car's bright lights. It was a slangy figure of a man, stumbling and falling on the ground.

 _Who cared if that was dangerous?_ I quickly left the car, but kept my distance a good foot away from the man that was trying to get back on his feet. I couldn't see his face as it was hidden beneath his long sweaty hair. He was pressing down his right arm, groaning.

"Are you okay sir?" I bent to take a look at his face, as he finally turned and then I saw.

It was _Jay_.

 _But what did he do here and what happened to him?_

His left eye was swollen, a bloody abrasion marked his cheekbone, he brought up his left arm to block the harsh light and then I saw how his hands and knuckles were bruised as well, like he just got out of a fistfight or something. Despite all that he broke into a wide grin that made him wince in pain. "Hello little _El-lie_."

I rushed to him without a second thought, helping him up. He took a deep breath and rose. God was he heavy! He looked disoriented, dazed and confused. " So… " I heard him clicked his tongue. " What are _you_ doing here? Aren't you supposed to be at the center of your warm and cozy family? _hmmm?_ " he purred.

"It got too hot had to get out." I responded wryly.

"Oooh family issues?" He raised his brows exaggeratedly.

I ignored his question, helping him get into the front seat, I asked. "What happened to you?"

He took a sharp breath and started laughing dryly. " I found it _funny_ to mess around with the guys downtown a little, " he looked at me sideway, leaning his head against the car seat as I started the engine, he said, " Apparently they seemed to lack a sense of humor _soooo_ they got mad aaand... this happened, " he paused and I glanced at the wound on his side, he still was clutching it. " Somehow though… it got even funnier. " He scoffed, laughing breathlessly and wincing all the same.

"I don't get it, who did this to you?" I asked frustrated and a little scared. I didn't want to tell him that I still didn't fully trust him, because really, that was rude the man was severely wounded. I wasn't planning to leave him in that condition.

"Aaah don't worry your pretty head now." He shrugged coolly.

"Okay," I tried to keep calm, _no need to freak out now Ellie._ " I'll take you to the hospital then."

I saw him made out disgusted face to that, shaking his head from side to side he said. "Sorry Kittie but I don't do doctors."

"B-but why? I'm trying to help you but-" I asked worriedly, he was bleeding but the only one that didn't seem to care at all was him. "What are we supposed to do about that wound? You're losing so much blood."

He tried to sat straighter, suddenly sounding sober. "Turn left."

"Where are we going?"

"I'll tell you when we cross that bridge. " He winked at me charmingly but honestly he looked like shit. Pale and wounded. It was still a miracle to me how he managed to stay awake let alone talk like that. I finally turned left, on the bridge and getting deep into the dirty streets of the Narrows.

It was very dark and very gloomy. A few dim streetlights created the kind of atmosphere seen only in horror movies. The lights did little to light our way but did create many shadows which my mind converted easily into all sorts of imaginary perils. I had slowed down the car so I could follow the direction he was giving more easily.

As we got deeper into more ghetto neighborhoods, I thought that the streets were deserted. It seemed as if we were the only survivors of a nuclear war. The half-ruined buildings and the deeply rutted streets added to the illusion. But I was definitely wrong. As my eyes grew more accustomed to the area, I began to see the shapes and forms of many people sitting on the curbs, standing in doorways and hovering over kerosene lanterns in the dingy little stores.

It all made me shudder., I'd never been in this part of the city before. I looked over at Jay, hopefully he was still awake and somehow that made me feel a little safer. I didn't know why. Even though I was in the car I got the feeling these people could do whatever they wanted and no one could really stop them.

The neon sign that read, " Palace " in dirty pink color, stopped me at the end of a dirty narrowed street. It was hanging over a crappy looking building.

"Is this… is this where you live?" I hesitated.

"Did you expect a palace princess? " Jay responded, grinning as he pointed at the sign. Opening the door he tried to get out. I had to come to his aid though, putting his big muscly arm on my shoulder. I was still unsure of getting into the building. It smelled horrible and I couldn't look away from a few surprised criminal- looking night people standing along the stairways.

On the other hand though, Jay didn't particularly look okay and it got me worried. I knew we had little time to stop him from bleeding. I still hadn't looked at his wound but I could imagine how bad it could be. I only hoped the hotel staff at least had a first aid kit so I'd be able to do something about it.

"Hey you're awake Jay? These people… they don't look exactly friendly. " I whispered but no response. "Jay?" I repeated louder still not a single word. I had no choice but to walk upstairs.

A surprised bellboy at the door allowed us inside the curtain covered entrance without saying a word. The whole building reminded me of a dirty strip club than an actual hotel. As we entered the stuffy small lobby, Jay finally nudged me in the ribs, " Upstairs." He sounded way too tired.

A maid quickly passed by us, she kept her head down though, like she was scared to look up. The man sitting at the front desk also didn't even looked up at us, keeping his eyes fixed on a TV show that got no sound at all. The whole building was eerie quiet and I wondered why people acted so strangely.

"302." Jay said, leaning his shoulder on me I thought I was going to crash under his weight. As we began going upstairs again I felt my back was on fire, but knew better than to protest. " Last room, down the hall." Continued Jay as we approached the door.

Even at the door, he didn't show any sign of letting me go. In fact, he pinned me tighter to his side as he took out the key and started fumbling with the lock. I was nervous. My mouth was dried out and the worst thing was that I wasn't able to even move. He looked like a giant, I was nothing. I didn't even think he needed me to stand straight at this point. As the door opened he practically dragged me along, giving me no other choice but to follow him.

I swallowed thickly. The room smelled of dusty, damp and old like an old chest of drawers left in the rain for the garbage man. I felt uneasy and scare. It finally struck me.

I didn't know this man, I didn't know why he was wounded in the first place and I absolutely had no idea what I was even doing in his room. "I think- may-maybe we- we should call the cops so—" I stuttered.

It was too late though. I froze, staring in utter horror at the tip of the pocket knife pointed at me.

" _Now_ , what's the whole point of _help-ing_ me if you'd do tha ** _t_**?"


	7. Chapter 7

**VII**

He was standing perfectly still, head tilted to the side, a look of deep concentration on his face. My heart sank into my chest. If the eyes really were the doorway to the soul, then I couldn't even imagine how dark he was. His cold, no longer brownish eyes were the color of coal and empty, void of any emotion.

Sneering, he roughly lifted my chin so I had no choice but to meet his flat stare, licking his lips, which was getting even more frequent. Somehow I couldn't bring myself to even guess what he was exactly thinking. I froze as he leaned in closer in a motion almost like he was going to kiss me. He smelled of peppermint and smoke, gasoline and a bit of gunpowder all mixed with the bitter odor of blood and sweat, almost too disgusting and deadly but almost even—pleasant.

I closed my eyes, shuddering as he brushed over the side of my face and then I heard the door lock turning behind my back as it clicked. Realization suddenly hit me hard in the stomach as I regained my senses. I wasn't supposed to be here. I wasn't supposed to be locked up in a room where a wounded stranger just threatened me with his knife. What else was he going to do to me?

Run Ellie!

I gathered all my strength and struggled to push him away, but it was useless; he was too big, too strong. Fear turned and rose inside me, twisting with anger like a storm that had nowhere to go, until I had no energy left until I accepted that there was nowhere to run until I surrendered.

I should've listened to dad.

A sop escaped my mouth as he held me and threw me to the other side of the room, my back hit the nightstand, causing a vase drop on the ground and shatter into pieces. I stared at him through unshed tears. Still unable to cry, unable to scream even. How did I trust this guy?

"Please let me go… I… I won't tell anybody." I stuttered.

Grinning smugly, he shrugged. "Now… what's the fun in that?" He took a deep breath, folding his pocket knife as he reached for his shirt, taking it off, swiftly. I swallowed thickly, taking a step back which to my wonder he didn't notice. He had a lean torso rippled with muscles beneath the skin but it was also covered with scars, lots of scars.

Some of them I could guess that'd been caused by knife or something sharp but some I had no idea. My gaze rested on the edge of the wound under his arm as he turned. It went right around his ribcage. It was nasty, looking awful and still bleeding that it almost stopped me from thinking about me and what he was going to do with me next. All I was sure about was that in that condition he couldn't do anything even if he wanted to.

Still, though, he didn't complain about the wound or even made a sound that would at least show he was in pain. Casually, he walked passed me to the small bathroom at the end of the room and pulled out a first aid kit. From scared to awkward I didn't know what to do, so I walked to the bathroom staring at him in the mirror. In the dim light of the fluorescent lamp above the mirror, I saw how pale he'd become.

"That…" I stopped myself when I heard how weak I sounded. So I closed my eyes and tried again. "That wound needs stitches, immediately. "

"What do you think I'm going to do then?" He snapped, his shaky hands searching for something in the kit as I stepped into the bathroom.

"I can help." As much as I tried to sound courageous, I knew how miserable I really was. He stared at me with tired eyes, completely blank and unreadable. It lasted for a good minute maybe longer as I found myself zoning out and then suddenly snapped out of it the moment he smacked his lips and raised a brow as if daring me to take a step closer.

Somehow with all the bleedings and the scars carved all over on his toned body, he stood like a cold hard stone still I could imagine how painful this might have been so I started searching in the kit for something to ease the pain.

"Do you… " I stopped myself, my voice was obviously shaking, swallowing thickly though I continued. " Do you have a Valium? "

He let out a dry laugh, sitting on the toilet seat, he said, his voice rough and scratchy. "How much is enough for you?" I gaped at him as he scoffed. "Don't bother kiddo, that stuff doesn't work on me."

"But that's impossible… there must be at least some sort of sedative that would work on you—" I was freaked out as he suddenly grabbed me by the collar and pulled me to the tip of his nose almost brushed against mine.

"Listen up… " He purred, almost dizzily, he seemed as if he might pass out as if all the blood in his head had drained to the wound but still he was fighting it. " Kit-tie… as much as I love our little…chit chatting, I'm not in the mood now so… how about you shu **t** up and uh… sew me up, hmm?How does that sound? "

He didn't let me respond, pushing me back and it took everything in me not to break into tears as I focused on the wound under his armpit. I grabbed a pretty decent towel from the linen closet and applied pressure to the cut to try and stop the blood that was pouring out. First: clean the cut. I told myself as I lifted it up and then started probing the wound. My hands were trembling so was his body, I took a quick glance at his dark eyes. They didn't look so dark anymore, anymore now. I could even detect a little green in them if I could stare at them longer but I had to turn away and as stupid as it sounds this new-found discovery made me a little confidence in myself.

Without saying a word though, he took over and pressed his trembling hand on the towel as I proceeded to look for something to clean the wound. My fingers soon, wrapped around the small bottle of alcohol at the corner of the bathroom, I walked to him, pushed his hand away gently and lifted up the towel once again as I splashed the liquid without any warning. I half expected him to cry out or at least jump a little but he only flinched in response, pressing his eyelids to close together.

I felt nauseous. The things I've done that morning. I had to thank my dad but I didn't know why it was so difficult to be happy with him. The wound looked clean and ready for some stitches. I was scared again. I started looking for a needle and thread in the kit, trying to keep my hands steady, without a tremor this time. This man was no rabbit. He was a wounded wolf. However… I took one last look at the gash. It was nasty. Ugly. Almost as awful as all the other scars on his body. I had to sew up the gash; I had to make my stitches as small and neat as I could. Like an artist. I felt like throwing up. Pressing the flesh together, I began stitching with the thread that held the wound in place. If I tremble he would see it. My fingers worked with him as nimbly as I could. I noticed he had his eyes closed, his muscles tensing as I pinched the wound together. He didn't complain about the pain as I clipped the last stitch then letting out my breath I finally took a step back.

"You should rest." My voice sounded sickly. I knew I wasn't supposed to feel like that but I haven't had eaten anything since morning, I left home in that state of mind and then this… this happened. I shouldn't have to be so hard on myself yet I was and I hated myself for that and for sounding so small in front of him.

He didn't say anything. Still, eyes closed as he got up, passing over me and I didn't know whether I was extremely insignificant or not that he paid no mind to me not even a small thank you escaped his lips but I guess I should've known better than someone like him.

"I… I think I should really get going now. "

He was standing still near the window. At his side magazines and newspapers littered on a small round table, an ashtray overflowed with butts, sat on top of the mess and other things I couldn't exactly differ in the twilight of the room. The only light was from the nightstand, flooding the room with cheap yellow glow. I just stood there awkwardly, my feet feeling numb. Last traces of fear were now gone and I was only tired now. All I wanted was to go back home.

He didn't say anything and that made me all the more frustrated. Picking up a dirty shirt from the corner of the room, I saw he stumbled across the bed and punched the play button of an old and dusty cassette player. The sound of tempos blasted in the room. The music seemed familiar. Something I knew but I couldn't exactly put my finger on it. I wasn't much into music; I only listened to everything was trending on the radio—

 _Funny how secrets travel_

 _I'd start to believe if I were to bled_

 _Thin Skies, the man chains his hands held high_

I stared at him, walking yet again to the table, slumping in a chair. Rummaging in his the pocket of his pants and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. He thumbed back the top, fit his lips around one and drew it out, bringing his other hand up simultaneously to light it. He inhaled. Completely lost. But no—

 _Cruise me blond_

 _Cruise me, babe,_

 _A blond belief beyond beyond beyond_

 _No return No return_

He wasn't lost.

I was.

Somewhere in between all that mess, he caught me staring, took the cigarette from his mouth and held it out to me, offering. I guess I once smoked back in school. The girls were smoking and they offered and I thought it was totally uncool to refuse. I was already an outcast and that would make it so much worse. I just took a quick drag which ended with me coughing hideously. That didn't work. Not only they all laughed at me when I got home, dad found out and it was terrible.

 _I'm deranged_

 _Deranged my love_

 _I'm deranged down down down_

 _So cruise me babe Cruise me, baby,_

Once I thought, I was ready to say the hell with everything but now it was different. I couldn't take the joint. I shouldn't have felt safe here; I shouldn't have enjoyed the music. I shouldn't have…

 _And the rain sets in_

 _It's the angel-man_

 _I'm deranged_

But I was also tired. Tears filled my eyes. I didn't know why. I had enough for today and he was a mess so why did I feel like crap, then? The music slowly began to fade.

And so was I, when I took the joint and closed my eyes.

* * *

 _A/N: The lyrics belong to David Bowie's "I'm deranged..."_  
 _I'm so sorry if this chapter felt like a filler but hopefully more is on the way..._  
 _Thanks for all the reviews and comments and I'm so sorry for the delay_


	8. Chapter 8

**VIII**

"Rise and _**shine**_ , _Kit-tie!_ "

The uncharacteristically high-pitched voice jolted me upright. I felt disoriented, lost and confused. At first, I was greeted by the harsh rays of the sunlight coming through the window. My head pounded and my mouth was dry and tasted bitter. I swallowed thickly, looking around at my surrounding. I was in a tiny dirty hotel room. My nostrils started burning at the faint smell of coffee and the fresh burning smell of tarry nicotine.

" You know I thought I _los **t**_ you. " I finally saw him. The man with dirty blond hair, Jay. He hunched over the small table near the window, glaring at me. The room was too bright for me to see his expression but somehow I could tell he was smiling widely. He shook his head, tilting it a little, " One second you were there, singing David Bowie, the next you were just uh… _gone._ " clapping his hands violently together, causing the air to reverberate and making my heart jump. I immediately stood up in alarmingly, looking at him chuckling at my reaction. He was enjoying something I suppose, I didn't know what it was, some private joke perhaps.

The strong feeling of dread had returned again, I needed to leave this room, I needed to go. Something inside my head kept yelling, begging to just run. " I won't tell anyone." I managed to say, my voice rough and foreign to my own ears.

"There's nothing to tell anyone," Jay told me, his eyes suddenly getting darker, if it wasn't for the damn light I could see how he looked, even though his serious tone somehow gave away. "Something happened last night, _El-lie._ " He called me by my name again and it sent a chill down my spine. "There was a lotta shooting downtown at ah… a little club called The Ro-man _._ "

Petrified, I tried to understand. I didn't know what he was talking about but I could guess it related to him being beaten up but why was he telling me those now? I couldn't help but feel a little sick in my stomach. Something was wrong.

" People got shot, people were… _stabbed_. " he licked his lips, raising his brow pointedly so I knew he was talking about his wounds. "But people also … ah… they were killed." He got up from his chair then, towering over me, causing shadows to cast, suddenly the room wasn't too bright anymore and I could see him and I could see a Cheshire smile on his face and a glittering in his eyes as he got closer. " Little boys died, " My breath hitched, "There was one in particular, what was his name again? " he said, looking at the ceiling comically, touching his chin, pretending to be thoughtful, I couldn't tell. "Hmmm… Tim, Sean uh… Sam… Sam-my… yeah." He said the words as if tasting them.

Random names, at first. I ought to know. I stared back at him, scowling. I wanted to ask, he sounded mad. _Jay was crazy_. He was –. My heart stopped at the realization. _'Sam'_ I thought with horror. _'Sam'_ … I didn't even think about my little brother last night, he'd left home having another argument with dad. _Where did he go?_ I never asked. I never really cared… _did I?_ The lump in my throat started choking me. My eyes welled with tears. My whole body was trembling. I needed to call home. To call Sam.

Jay blinked slowly, his eyes drowsy, I wondered if he even slept last night or… ever? His eyes were locked on mine, making me freeze in my spot. "Now… " he smacked his lips loudly, trying to get my attention. " You're a good little girl, aintcha Kittie? You ah… you helped me last night but hey... can't save everybody, can you?" He winked at me as I took a step back. He frowned, "Can't play _doctor_ all the time like your _daddy._ "

My eyes widened, and let go of a breath I didn't know I was holding. "How do you know my dad?" I croaked, a tear running down my cheek as a took another step back.

"Who doesn't? I mean _Mat-thew_ Crane, he's ah… he's as _well-known_ as the town's pump." He said conversationally, taking a step towards me.

"What do you want from me?" I was too nauseous to feel offended by him insulting my dad. Stupid, stupid. I kept telling myself, taking as many steps back as I could, so my back hit harshly to the doorknob.

"Me?" He spoke in a high nasal voice, raising his brow exaggeratingly. I had never heard him speak like that, it was as if he was someone else, not the man from the last night, not the one discussing art with me at the café either. "It's not about me; it's not about you either. It's about the _whole_ town."

He spoke in riddles, things I couldn't simply figure out. Things that could mean something or nothing at all. It was like looking at the Magritte's arts. _No… no…_ I shook my head. It was nothing like art. This man was obviously dangerous and crazy. There was nothing artistic about it or him. I pushed back, my right hand finding the doorknob absently and when the lock clicked and the door opened I was surprised.

He didn't talk again, he just kept observing me, tilting his head, like I was a rare object. I could ask though, I would have, but in that very moment with my hazy mind and how my heart pounded in my chest and ears like drums, there was no way that I would.

So I pushed back against the door, turned and without hesitation ran down the long corridor. Away from the old hotel, away from him.

"Gotham General Hospital!" He shouted at the very end and I thought my heart sank at his words.

He did something last night, _didn't he?_ Or the night before that. The inspiration he was so proud of it. I felt sick, I felt disgusted and afraid, but I also couldn't help but to wonder he didn't hurt me last night when I fell asleep in his room, not even touched me, I would've known. _Who was he?_ As I opened the door to my car, panting I wondered if he was an artist too. A very dangerous one.

* * *

 _A/N: Hey guys, so much delay, I'm so sorry about that but hey at least I got something ready, I'm still going down with the plot in my mind. Ellie is still not ready, still scared and let's be honest who wouldn't be. Jay is pretty much unpredictable but hey he might be an artist. What are your thoughts?_

 _Thanks for follows, Faves and all the reviews._

 _Cheers,_

 _Bella_


	9. Chapter 9

_**IX**_

 _Hospital, Sam, Shootings, The Roman._ I tried to piece them together, tried to make some sense out of it. But all in vain. I couldn't think straight, my hands were shaking on the steering wheel and my breaths came as uneven and shallow. My chest ached with a spreading faint pain across my upper ribs and I felt almost numb in my left arm. I thought I was going to have a heart attack, it was all too intense. I regretted leaving home without my phone. It was unlike me. All of it, I'd never stood up to my dad, neither ran out of the house without considering to tell anyone, even my mom or Harry.

I'd never done such a thing. I was always the obedient good daughter, the listener, the quiet one. Sam was the dramatic child; he'd taken no shit from either mom or dad. I said yes to everything they'd told me, wanted me to do. Always. Now though, everything had changed, and it wasn't even good. It felt horrible, I felt horrible. If anything had happened to Sam, I didn't know if I could forgive myself, even though I wasn't responsible for it. Jay was certainly responsible for it, for something.

The awfully loud sound of the explosion echoed in my mind again. I felt like throwing up but my stomach was empty and I knew it was probably because of the sudden drop in my blood pressure, I saw black spots in my vision but I needed to get out of the Narrows. It was almost 8 in the morning and even though the streets were packed with cars, buses and electric trolleys, I was able to get to the Gotham General Hospital. I knew my dad was there but I was already an emotional wreck. Surprisingly I found a parking spot quickly and without caring much about locking the doors I dragged my body to the main entrance.

It was too surreal. For a second I thought I was in an art project, one of Magritte's magnificent views of what lies between dream and reality. The doors opened at my feet and I ran, panting to the receptionist desk, looking around frantically. I spotted a stretcher, the white covers stained with crimson red spots as something lay beneath them. The dizziness came back. I was used to seeing dead bodies. Blood. Gore. No, I suddenly remembered this was nothing like Magritte's paintings, it was all Francis Bacon. And it was tremendously frightening.

"Miss, are you alright?" I must have looked sick. I certainly felt like it. I whirled at the voice. Trying to think, my head hurt, no no it was my brain, I could feel every cell in it hurting.

"I'm okay." I swallowed, my mouth was incredibly dry, yet I tried to wet my lips and talk. "Has anyone brought a Sam Crane to this hospital?"

The nurse looked at me suspiciously, " I… I'm not sure; I need to check the list."

"Then please check it!" My knees felt wobbly as I almost shouted. The whole lobby turned back and looked at me like I was some kind of a lunatic. I didn't care though; my eyes were fixed on the body beneath the sheets. I could see Sam under them. I could imagine myself, pulling it and looking at his face. Jay said there were shootings and some boys died in that. He said their names and I repeated unconsciously under my breath, " Tim, Sean—" The nurse looked at me dubiously.

"Ellie!" I turned around at the familiar voice. I shouldn't have. It was my dad in his white coat. "What are you doing here?" He walked to him, his voice stern and cold as always but somehow more scornful.

"Dad," I managed to stand straight, but it was hard with the room spinning around my head in slow motion. " Dad where is Sam?"

"Lower your voice, this is a hospital for god's sake. "

I didn't fucking care if it was a hospital, I needed to know if my brother was alright. "I need to know if he's okay. " I insisted, clenching my hands. I was angry now, something boiling hot in my chest, I could feel bitterness at the back of my throat, I hadn't eaten anything for a day, I wasn't sure if I were going to vomit, what would come out of my mouth.

"What are you talking about?" I knew this look, it was unnerving on his face, I used to recoil at his icy blue eyes when he looked at me like that, he was always a serious man. A busy one. He never had time to play around. " Where have you been all night Ellie?" He pointed an accusing finger at me but I wasn't in the mood to be impressed. I was tired and fed up.

"Why don't you answer me?!" I screamed and I knew the staff, my father's colleagues and friends were all looking at me. I didn't care if they thought I was out of my mind.

"He was home before I leave." He hissed, grabbing my arm to somewhere quieter, not that there was any in the hospital that huge and crowded with patients and staff. "You don't look fine, have you taken anything? Drugs?"

"What?" I almost scoffed, almost, but then remembered the joint Jay gave me, shaking my head. " No… no, I haven't taken anything—" he didn't let me finish, pulling my lower lids down to take a look at my pupils, I slapped his hand away, taking a step back. "What do you think you're doing?"

"Just tell what did you do and maybe I can help you." He resigned to a much much gentler tone. Somehow I hated that even more than the demanding, stone-cold tone he used all the time but then I realized why he put that mask on.

"Something's wrong ?" It was Thompkins. Beautiful and brunette. I didn't like her though, thought she was too close to dad. "Ellie?" She frowned with confusion. I didn't respond. Instead, I turned my back to dad and ran outside. Sam wasn't there. It was a sick joke. Jay might have been laughing his ass off at me. I felt resentful more than stupid. I walked to the car and leaned against its trunk.

It was hot and humid and I couldn't breathe properly. My head was on fire, my whole body was sweating. Out of the corner of my eyes I caught dad, running outside and to the parking lot. Damn it. I couldn't put up with his lectures anymore, at least not now. So before he could reach me, I flung the door open and jumped behind the wheel and rolled up the window, he tapped on it.

"Ellie!" he yelled, as I ignited the engine, " Open the door now!" no, I didn't even spare him a glance as I pushed down the gas pedal and turned the wheels, driving into the streets. I wished Harry was here. Harry would have known. Harry could calm me down. Tears rolled down my cheek and before I realized I was sniffing hard. I didn't know what was wrong with me. I felt pathetic, still worried about Sam as I pulled over next to a phone booth near a gas station.

Getting off the car, I ran to it and punched Sam's number hurriedly. If he was okay at home as dad claimed then why would Jay say something like that? how did he even know my brother's name?

 _Beep, Beep_.

I held my breath, he wasn't going to pick it up and once again I panicked, my hands trembling and knees feeling like they would give up at any moment—

"Hello?"

"Sam?"

"Yeah, who's this?"

"Sam, Sam… oh god—" I don't think I had ever felt so much relieved to hear my brother's voice, I almost sank to the ground but held the phone booth tightly, "It's me Ellie, you're okay ?"

"Ellie? Where are you? Mom's worried sick."

"Never mind me, where are you?"

"Home, why?"

I couldn't handle this cat and mouse game, I was tired, I needed to know what was going on in Jay's head. "Tim… Sean… do these names mean anything to you?"

"What? Why do you ask?"

"Answer me, damn it!"

"Y-yeah… they're my friends."

I rubbed my eyes. How did Jay know? Did Sam know Jay?

"Have you ever been to The Roman's club?"

"What the fuck is wrong, Ellie?"

"HAVE YOU EVER BEEN THERE SAM?!"

"This is crazy! You're crazy Ellie! Come home you need help!"

 _Beep, Beep_ ,Beep _._ He hung up on me, Same knew what was going on. He might even know about the explosion near Wayne Enterprises that other night. I dragged my feet back to the car. Sitting behind the wheels, I closed my eyes before my vision went completely black.

* * *

 _A/N: Hey guys, I just wanted to thank you all for the kind comments and reviews, also those who have followed and favorited this fiction! This was for you! I'm sorry if it's short but I'll upload soon! This is my spring break and although I'm so much busier than during the semester I think I can manage to upload regularly!_

 _Hope you enjoyed_

 _Don't forget to Fave, Follow but more importantly Review!_

 _Cheers,_

 _Bella_


	10. Chapter 10

**X**

I don't know why I said "nope, can't do it," to common sense; but I didn't go home.

I opened my eyes and took in some unpleasant physical facts. I was sweating profusely. The car had turned into a hot little hell after being parked outside in the sun for so long. I breathed heavily through a horribly dry mouth and I knew I was very dehydrated. I had to get out of here. I figured it must be around noon. As I fired up the engine, my empty stomach growled rather monstrously, warning me about what must be a very low blood-sugar level. So I shouldn't have driven. But I turned the car toward the city and set off

I didn't really know where to go. My head felt heavy and my thoughts were foggy. It could have been caused by many things; hunger, dehydration, panic, heat, the cigarette, the possible after-effects of a possible drug— Jay… _fucking Jay_. I still didn't know what he meant, what he earned out of this stupid game. Sam was obviously fine, as for others? Sam's friends… how were they? Were they really dead? But Sam didn't know anything, did he? I could go home and check on Sam, getting some answers at least but I knew I would be faced with a thousand more questions myself. I was conflicted.

For a brief flash I thought of going to my uncle Jonathan's but he was rarely home and I certainly didn't feel sane or solid enough to go to Arkham and look for him. Besides, what would I tell him? That some random dude I talked with _only_ occasionally at a café, had shown up wounded in a middle of the street and I picked up, took him to the Narrows where he almost held me hostage, possibly drugged me and then talked crazy shit about some club called _the Roman_ and some boys getting shot at and killed? Sam, being one of them whereas Sam was totally fine? Sure, psychologist or not, I was certain that he would be having more questions about my sanity.

As for Harry - _damn Harry!_ I thought I only hated him because he didn't tell me about his boyfriend; I despised him even more now that he wasn't around and I didn't have anyone else to turn to.

 _Oh my head hurt._ At this point, I knew only Sam could answer my questions and that stupid little brother of mind had just flipped on me not hours ago. Couldn't blame him though, I must have sounded insane. Maybe I should have only accepted that Jay only played with me, he wanted to say how I would react. He might have known Sam though, perhaps had seen him in that club, he was talking about. But what was so special about that club? The shootings and all that, you wouldn't see that kind of a stuff in a normal club, certainly not a game lounge as Sam always would say that he'd gone to. My stomach turned at the thought of that it might be somewhere illegal, even worse, mob related.

I drove aimlessly, turning the wheel every so often, and passed through a few crossroads. Eventually, I was near the bridge again. I stalled the car. _Did I want to go back to the Narrows?_ Surely that was where the source of my questions was. _Did Jay he know Sam even before meeting me?_ Could it be that our first meeting at the Art Café wasn't only a coincidence? He certainly knew dad. And remembering how he called him "town pump" indicated that he wasn't really fond of him. _But why?_

 _Was Jay still in the Narrows?_ I squinted in the bright sunlight, Unlikely; _he probably figured I'd called the police._

I hadn't called them though. I even didn't tell dad or Sam. It was a stupid omission. A normal person would have called the police. Jay had obviously been involved in something horrible. He had threatened me into staying with him through the night. He had quite possibly drugged me. Still, I had done nothing about it. _Why?_ I swallowed thickly. I had so many questions, if he ended up in jail how would I know the answer to them? This city would definitely become a safer place with people like him in prison but still… I knew, I was stupid, stupid, stupid, but I somehow… liked him. He understood my sketches. He knew how I was trying to break the rules of reality and he seemed like he supported the idea, always providing me with new and strange sources of inspiration—

I shudder at the thought; what if this… all of these seemingly meaningless events were also another way to inspire me again?

 _They looked Simple to ordinary eyes but deep down full of meanings or even worse… completely meaningless._ Not everything should have a meaning behind it, not every painting, every surreal picture… sometimes being meaningless _is_ the meaning, he'd said that, one way or another. He showed me that with the explosion behind the Wayne Enterprise's building that other night. But with something as sensitive as family, if his only intention was to inspire me then, he had gone too far. I couldn't understand the sudden feeling of relief in my chest though. I knew I wanted to trust Jay but all things considered, _was it really a good idea?_

I drove off again and soon turned into Almond Street. There was my so-called sanctuary - Art Café. Art Cafe looked like it was molting under the sun. It was a three-story building, old and covered in dull, dusty gray paint with burgundy awnings over the windows. Staring at it, I tried to imagine it crooked. It was crooked, just for a few seconds; listing a little to the left, it seemed as if its colors were oozing out into the river so that the river wouldn't have to be so colorless and sad anymore.

I needed to eat something. And I needed water.

I saw Lars's '62 dusty red Volkswagen and felt mildly relieved. I parked right beside it and went inside. In here it was beautifully cool. It felt like another dimension and my relief increased. Lars was there behind the counter. He finished filling the glass in his hand and waved at me. I trudged toward him and took a barstool for myself. I could cool down a bit before going home.

"Ellie—" Lars began. His expression told me I looked as wrecked as I felt.

"I know I look like a zombie—" I said, wiping my brow, "but it's OK, 'cause I feel like one too. So it matches. Could I have some water?"

"….sure."

He brought me cold, cold water and right after, a big bowl of spaghetti. After I finished both the water and the food to completion, he asked me if I wanted to rest in his room upstairs. The thing was, I felt physically fine now. Even going home didn't sound like a priority anymore. Mentally, though, it was another story. I felt like I had lost something important, like a key or a phone; something I couldn't quite remember. So I just sat barside and waited, glancing often at the door, imagining Jay coming through. Getting to know how unpredictable he was, it wasn't that impossible if he just burst through the doors right now. _Shit,_ what was I doing my whole life? Trying to inspire myself out of ordinary boring eventless life I had. It was only a few weeks knowing Jay and he'd already thrown me in hell and dragged me out. _How did he know about my simple life?_ _Should I feel thrilled now?_

Hours passed and the only people who entered the café were a young woman who made a bottle of beer last two hours and an old man who just wanted to smoke – he looked like he didn't have a permanent residence and Lars just let him hang out, asking no questions, as he was doing for me. My mind swirled back to Jay. I thought about asking Lars to get me pen and paper so I could sketch the man to distract my mind and quell the little shake I still had in my hands, but ultimately I figured a walk might help more.

Coming up on 7pm and as darkness was about to fall I left, went back out into the evening heat and began to walk toward the river, breaking a little rule right now wouldn't hurt much, would it? after everything that happened earlier. I felt better almost immediately. Breathing into the freedom I had just achieved, caused my head to clear out and to think more logically. _How far a person could go to draw inspiration for a surreal art?_ I wondered, staring into the dusky, deep and angry water. I felt a cool breeze against my sweating skin as I stood next to the thick metal siderail and stared at the dark water. It separated the city and the Narrows into two universes. I inhaled the river air, taking it deep into my lungs and then I closed my eyes. Creating chaos does inspire an artist _but… at what cost?_

When I opened them again, there was a tiny orange point of light in the corner of my vision. Behind the little floating light, which just happened to be the tip of a large cigar, was a long-haired man dressed in dark clothing. He held his cigar to his mouth. I gazed at him for a moment, still lost in thought, still unable to decipher real and surreal before suddenly jumping at the realization. Adrenaline rushed through my veins, causing me to stand in defensively.

His husky familiar voice soon confirmed that I wasn't dreaming. "You're not _all-owed_ here Kitty." He didn't look at me. _How did he know—?_ I opened my mouth to ask but closed before a word came out. There was a long pause then; I knew I must have looked petrified, my heart was beating loudly in my throat and my hands were shaking. I needed to take a hold of myself, the memory of the knife so close to my face still vivid in my mind. "Wh—" the word came out slow and weak, so I cleared my throat and tried again, hiding my hands in my jean's pockets. " What are you doing here?"

I knew I wasn't safe with him, but then again I wasn't trapped into a crappy hotel room somewhere in the Narrows either. I had to keep my composure, so he would know that I wasn't intimidated by his presence. However something told me it was all in vain, he already knew what he was doing and the bastard was enjoying it.

Finally he turned his head and looked at me. The look was – pitying. _Was it really that stupid of a question?_ He took a glance at our surroundings and then licked his lips slowly.

"Where _uh…_ where else would I be?"

"In the Narrows?" I retorted almost immediately, thoughtlessly. "I thought the police were after you."

He tapped the cigar, shaking off the ash, then proceeded to bite at some dead skin on his lower lip. _Very pretty._ "I thought the same, _buttttt_ you see "— he took another, this time exaggerated-looking glance around him and delicately spat the little bit of skin away—"no cops."

Suddenly, I knew what he was thinking of doing. I retreated by one step, which brought my back in contact with the side-rail. He clicked his tongue, and went on; "I'm just really curious, _Ellie._ "

It was hard to stay unfazed. It felt like my chest was being ripped apart by how hard and fast my heart beat though fortunately I had a little stoicism in my genetic cupboard; probably from my Dad. So I stayed in place and crossed my arms over my chest. "I had nothing to tell them." Remembering what he told me the night before and hoping to slow him down on his thread, he was already too close for my goodness and I appreciated if he stayed where he was.

He pulled long on the cigar in reply, turning the end bright red. "That, I told ya but it…isn't _entirely_ true, is it?"

I tried to ignore his question, shaking my head in frustration, "Why did you lie to me about my brother?" I asked louder than I intended too but I was already shaking, might as well let out all the energy piled up inside of me than to cower in fear, which I knew would _oh so_ delight him. " You said he was shot dead."

He shrugged at that, not bothering to look away, "Maybe I am a fortune-teller, " he said, stepping a little further, now completely invading my personal space with his massiveness. " Maybe… _you_ —" The sterness he put into his tone reminded me of my father, "— need to pay attention more." That seemed to spell the end for the cigar, he threw it up high and outward and I watched it from my peripheral view fall down into the river. He didn't give me a chance to react this time, taking a fast step toward me and grabbed the point of my chin between thumb and forefinger. He wasn't gentle.

"You're not gonna hurt me," I said through muffled voice, I had no idea where that courage came from in me. Somehow I knew, if he wanted to do something to me he would have done it way sooner back at the hotel. But he never did.

"Did I ever say that?" he hissed and I could smell his breath – tobacco, mint, and….what else? Something weird….I frowned, but for a few crazy moments, I was staring at his lips and feeling really weird about it. He squeezed my chin so tightly it felt like a bruise was forming right then and there under his fingers and I began to try to push him away. He remained brick-wall like.

"Why are you doing this?" I struggled in his arms.

Somehow it felt like a cue for him to start throwing a tantrum, clenching his jaw, _was he angry now?_ "Why am I doing this?" he loosened his grip but stayed right up on me. "Why am I doing this?... _Because_ …I want ya to know something." Here a sudden current of excitement ran through his voice.

He moved quickly; arm going round my waist, my feet leaving the ground, we spun around, him raising my hips up high and suddenly I was over the siderails. He clamped me against him by the waist and my feet trod air. He held me facing outwards above the river. If he took his arm away, I would plummet. I gripped the siderail in each of my hands, but that wouldn't stop anything if he let go. Shocked, I somehow forgot how to breathe as I heard him almost whispering into my total silence.

"When I say that it isn't personal, I mean it but dontcha get a false sense of safety, _El-lie._ " He hissed my name like he was spitting out poison. But I couldn't care any less, my knuckles turning white clasping at the siderails. The river beneath me, black and suddenly roaring like a monster, excited for a prey, showing of it fangs and waiting ever impatiently to feed. "You're never safe," the deep sound of his voice tickled my earlobe and around my neck and sent tremors through my entire body and somewhere in betwee,n I figured in shame that somehow my whole body felt aroused. "The least with me."

Trying to make sense of his words was getting difficult by second, I saw a spiral gathering in the dark river, creating a whirlpool, going deeper into the core where there is nothing except the void. It seemed as if I was gazing into the abyss and funny how it didn't feel like a metaphor here, as I could see with my own eyes, it stared back at me. My breaths soon came me in as shallow and hitched as I finally manage to look down at Jay's arm, snaking around my waist. He was having no trouble holding me. Protecting me against the fall but also having the power to let go of me. It was a scary thought and I tried to not panic as the realization dawned on me.

I nodded my head slowly, breathing. " I … understand."

"So," He smacked his lips together and the little puff of his breath tingled on my neck. "All the warnings I gave you… maybe they were out of the goodness of my heart, or—" he paused, breathing deeply into the open air, "I'm just messing with ya." He scoffed and for a frightening moment, his arm loosened around my waist—

"Please don't let go." My voice was barely audible now. But he heard me because he gripped me tighter still and pulled me close to the side rail until he was crushing me against it. It really hurt. I closed my eyes and said it again, "please". It sounded like a prayer.

"I won't," he whispered in my ear. Then he hauled me back over the rail, and back onto the ground. His arm remained in place – making this a… an accidental half-hug. I was still too shocked to make a sound, too afraid to even look at him. As he finally let go, I felt the cool breeze coming from the river suddenly pierced into my skin, making me shiver. He took a step back, departing at last, " You're welcome." He said without sparing me another glance. I was the one who took a step to him this time, trying to stand firmly on the ground, but my knees were shaking, I couldn't let go of the siderails.

"Wait! at least give me a number!" I yelled after him, desperately wanting him to stay, to answer my question, I had so many of them and I barely got a chance to ask him any of that, "Anything so I knew where you'd be next time—" But he never turned, instead he raised an arm, waving and looking over his shoulder, he replied, " I'm an idea, _Kit-tie_ , _I'm eveeeeerywhere!_ "

And just like that he left, leaving me shaken up again with a disoriented mind and a headache that I knew would get unbearable in seconds.

* * *

 _A/N: Hey everybody, so with a help of a good friend here, I not only rewrote this chapter but made a few changes in grammar and story telling._

 _Anyway sorry for the long wait and thank you for all your follows, faves and reviews._

 _Cheers,_

 _Bella_


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